Plus One
by Aeronie
Summary: The Boys from the Dwarf... plus one. Too bad she's on the run from simulants. Series 5/AU series 6. This is my experiment to see if it's possible to have an OC that's not a Mary Sue. Warning: some violence.
1. Prisoner

**Chapter 1: Prisoner**

_Two months. Two smegging months I've been trapped here like a rat. Most of the crew are dead, tortured to death or just killed. I'm alone in here now. I used to be able to hear the people in the cells next to me but they're quiet now. I shared a cell with Navigation Officer Rhiannon Enwright. That's how she introduced herself. Not Rhiannon, not Rhiannon Enwright. Always Navigation Officer Rhiannon Enwright. She was married to another navigation officer and she was three months pregnant. She told me she wanted to name the baby Henry if it was a boy._

_It doesn't matter now. They shot her point-blank with a bazookoid, right in the back of the head. They made the two of us kneel on the floor with our backs to them. One of them flipped a coin: I was heads, she was tails. The coin hit the floor and rattled a few times, and then she was dead._

_I never told Rhiannon anything about myself. She knew my name and rank and that's it. Why bother? She's gone now. It's just a matter of time until they get to me._

By all accounts, the SS Lynx was doing fine. Just a routine trip: going back to the solar system to mine the Kuiper Belt, then quick stops on Pluto and Triton before debarking on Tethys. That's all passing ships got when they attempted to handshake with the vessel, a brusque, flat message from Captain Russell Finch describing the mission.

Of course, the captains of the other ships neglected to zoom out to see the full picture: Captain Finch delivering his message in a terrified monotone with a simulant standing behind him, cocked bazookoid inches from his head. After a while the simulants realized that Finch was giving the same response to every ship that tried to handshake. They had him record a message and, when he was finished, ejected him into space while the crew was forced to watch. Finch had some fairly nasty things done to him with a laser knife before he'd been shot out of the waste disposal unit; he was missing a leg and several fingers when he was carried to his death. There were murmurings among the crew that he'd still been alive when he was set adrift without a spacesuit, left to asphyxiate in the empty black hell of space.

The Lynx had been a few million miles from the edge of the solar system when it was boarded. There was no call to war, no threat. The simulants simply rammed the side of the ship and came aboard, swapping the Lynx for their burnt-out vessel. They repaired the damage from the crash, turned the ship around, and started steering it into deep space. For the past two months, the remainder of the crew was left in the brig, only removed from their cells for periodic torture sessions or, if they had died, to be jettisoned into space. From a crew of just over a thousand, there were maybe three hundred left after sixty days.

_I don't know how much longer I can hang on. They're taking me out of my cell almost every day now. I think they do that if you're on your way out. At least it will be over. I'm just so tired. For some reason they let me keep my watch, this smegging cheap vid-watch from a souvenir stand on Mimas. I'm recording my last will and testament on this piece of smeg. Go figure. And then when I die these simulant smegheads can laugh at it._

_Oh, God. I think they're coming for me again. Just... if anyone sees this, know this: my name is Nic Hawkins. I was born on Iapetus and I'm going to die in deep space._

The cell door slid open with a low whoosh. "Come on," a gravelly voice said. Nic raised herself unsteadily to her feet and shuffled out the door. The simulant led her down an unfamiliar path. She had been taken to the brig's medical room for torture so many times that she could count each of the 379 steps that took her there. But now she was going somewhere else. Perhaps it was her time.

As they walked, Nic realized she was heading down a corridor toward the drive room. Some long-buried memory resurfaced; there was a loose ventilation grate here that kept falling down. She'd told herself months ago to put in a work order to have it fixed but never got around to it, owing to her capture and imprisonment by deranged killing machines. _The grate's pretty heavy, _she thought. _If it fell on someone, it could do a lot of damage._ As she passed it, she slowed her walk, pretending to be too weak to keep up with the simulant's rapid pace. Instead, she slipped the grate from its resting spot on the wall and hefted its weight in her hands. She was tired, but a surge of adrenaline helped her keep going. I_'m probably going to die if I don't do something right now. It's this or nothing. And even if I've failed, I still tried_, she thought. The simulant still moved ahead of Nic, not noticing that she had fallen behind.

Quietly, she crept up behind the simulant and raised the grate above her head, then brought it down as hard as she could on the back of his neck. She tried to remember her Space Corps training when combating simulants: go for the head, go for the eyes, go for the joint at their neck. Try to decapitate it. The blow had stunned it for a few moments; Nic took the opportunity to ram the point of the grate into the simulant's neck. It sunk in an inch or so, releasing a shower of sparks, so she did it again. And again. And again, until the simulant fell. Nic tried to cut through the thick metal cords at the center of his neck but could not, only managing to make a few gouges in the central column that supported his head. Still, it was enough. Nic would have enough time to gain a considerable lead on him by the time his auto-repair unit could bring him back online. She ran back to the ventilation shaft, crawling in and replacing the grate behind her, ready to make her great escape.


	2. Escape from the Lynx

**Chapter 2: Escape from the Lynx**

Nic tried to remember the map of the ventilation shafts running all over the Lynx. She had seen it before; a catering officer she'd briefly dated had it taped to the top of his bunk, and she'd spent a lot of time staring at it in the few weeks they'd been together. The only thing she knew was that she had to go down. The brig was on floor 206 and the escape pods and Starbugs were two hundred floors below that. She'd be undetectable as long as she stayed within the pipes; the ship's computer had a hard time keeping track of the massive metal labyrinth and would not be able to pinpoint her location.

So she crawled, hoping that a vertical shaft would appear soon. Even if she had the advantage of time and a great temporary hiding place, every second she stayed on the ship put her at greater risk. The metal surrounding her was mostly warm, alternating with burning hot. The hair on her forearms slowly singed and fell away as she crawled further into the bowels of the ship. After what seemed like an eternity of slowly inching her way down the hot steel pipe, she found a vertical shaft that seemed to run the entire height of the ship. She propped herself across the open space, silently thanking the simulant who had made the decision to keep the prisoners in their ship-issue boots. The trek downward was a long one; if she fell, that was it for her. Though Nic had already been prepared to die that day, she had already come so far. She had not realized she could even get away from her captors, let alone find an escape route, and was not willing to let fatigue or despair stand in her way. She'd rather be torn apart by simulants in her failed quest than be found dead at the bottom of a ventilation shaft.

An offline simulant lay on the floor of corridor 952, discarded like a large piece of metal garbage. Torn wires sprouted from the back of his neck. A low hum reverberated from his torso, making the floor vibrate, as his internal processes restarted. The simulant blinked his eyes several times as he awoke, bracing himself on the wall as he tried to pull himself up to a standing position. After a few tries, he managed to right himself. The joint where his neck met his shoulders throbbed and sparked painfully. He reached back to feel the area and received a minor shock as his finger came into contact with some exposed wiring. Cursing under his breath, he searched his memory banks for a recollection of whatever had transpired. He had been walking Officer Hawkins to the drive room, where the other simulants usually congregated to see a high-ranking crew member being jettisoned into space. He recalled that she was rather low in terms of officers, but they had killed nearly everyone above her in the chain of command. They loved watching a pathetic human struggle for breath as he or she swelled with pressure and then eventually lost consciousness. A quick round from a laser cannon usually finished them off if there was a call for pyrotechnics, which he usually supported. Humans tended to explode rather gracefully, despite their disgusting, awkward nature. The memory bank video suddenly cut out, replaced by static and then nothing.

"The girl! Where is the girl?" the simulant snarled. He had two options: find her and have her killed before anyone noticed or report to his superiors for punishment and have them find her. After checking his internal clock, the simulant realized he had been unconscious for nearly an hour. After that much time, she could be anywhere on this ship, and she certainly knew its layout better than he did. That is, if she hadn't managed to steal a Starbug and escape back to the solar system, where she would undoubtedly have a Space Corps brigade sent after them, bazookoids blazing. The higher-up simulants would most likely have started a full-ship search by now, and they'd be clamoring for his punishment if Hawkins had managed to escape. Roaring with anger, the simulant punched the wall, leaving a large dent. The wall shook, causing a metal grate to come loose and then fall off. The grate exposed a ventilation shaft just wide enough for a human to squeeze into.

With a twisted smile on his wrecked visage, the simulant ran toward the drive room. He had good news.

Nic kicked out a grate on what she had calculated to be the sixth floor of the Lynx. She turned around, peering out of the vent to see if any simulants patrolled the area. When she saw that the coast was clear, Nic pulled herself out of the vent, tumbling onto the floor as she lost her balance. Jumping to her feet so as not to lose precious time, she ran down the corridor as fast as she could toward the transport bay, her boots pounding against the floor. A decal on the wall caught her eye: she was on floor 7, not on floor 6.

"Smeg!" she hissed, running toward the nearest staircase. She pushed the door release to staircase D and started running down the steps, taking them two at a time.

"There she is!" a deep voice echoed from several floors above. _The simulants must have been searching every floor starting from the brig_, she thought. A quick glance upward told her that they were around the fifteenth floor; she had a few seconds, maybe a minute to put some serious distance between herself and her captors. A second burst of adrenaline fueled her as she leapt down the last steps in one great bound, then ran toward the transport bay. Nic went to grab a set of keys from the wall rack; she would take any key and take whichever vehicle it corresponded with, but hoped that she'd end up with a Starbug rather than a regular escape pod. Her hand shot out, expecting to land on jangling metal and plastic, but there was nothing under her fingers besides the cold brass of the hooks. All of the keys had been removed.


	3. Starbug

cazflibs - I'm glad you like it! There will be some comedy and possibly the teensiest bit of fluff later on, but it's mostly black comedy and irony. And, of course, the main arc is going to be pretty dark and violent.

BitterKnitter - Thanks! Part of the reason I wanted to write this was a challenge to myself to make an OFC that's not a Mary Sue. I hope I can do it!

Don't worry guys, next chapter we'll catch up with the Boys from the Dwarf.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Starbug**

"Screw it," Nic muttered. Starbugs had plenty of failsafes in case someone forgot the keys, which she'd done when she initially took her Starbug pilot test. She'd managed to pass that one somehow, but couldn't remember how. Failing that, she'd rip the damned ignition wires out and put them together until something happened. She tried to remember some long-ago lessons on Iapetus where a friend's older brother taught her to hot-wire cars. She had to connect the blue wire to the yellow wire, or the blue to the white, or something. Nic cursed her faulty memory having been replaced with Space Corps information and correct legal procedures. _My fifteen-year-old self would be appalled,_ she thought miserably.

"Looking for something?" a voice croaked behind her. She stopped and turned around. The simulant who had intended to lead Nic to her death stood behind her, holding a handful of keys. Low clinks echoed in the transport bay as he dropped a few keys. Nic considered running toward him to retrieve one, but decided against it. The simulant started walking jerkily toward her. Wires still stuck out from the back of his neck, intermittently shooting sparks. A maniacal grin was carved into his face; he would certainly enjoy getting his hands on his escaped quarry. Nic suppressed a scream that came out as a panicked whimper. The simulant grinned at the sound. She turned back around and crossed the last few meters to Starbug in just a few seconds, her actions purely reflex.

Nic climbed up the ladder to the cockpit, then closed, locked, and bolted the door behind her. Of course, simulants were strong enough to rip the door off of a Starbug with minimal effort, but she was too concentrated on escaping to realize that. The simulant started chasing after the Starbug to stop it as Nic smashed a few buttons on the console, but the craft stayed inoperable. Grunting, she kicked the panel beneath the navigation console and tore out a series of wires, grasping the blue and yellow ones and joining their exposed ends. She shrieked with manic delight as the craft turned on, the screen next to the pilot's chair illuminating and filling with the image of Miles, the Lynx's ship computer, personified as a middle-aged man with red hair and a cheery smile.

"Get me the smeg out of here, Miles!" Nic shouted as Starbug started to hover a few feet from the floor.

"I would, but something's stopping us."

"Get me a visual of the back of the ship." Miles faded from view as a camera on the back of Starbug activated, showing the simulant holding onto one leg of Starbug, effectively keeping it trapped on the Lynx with his massive strength. In the corner of the screen, she could see the transport bay door open, a small army of simulants with bazookoids emerging to take her down.

"Hit the retros!"

"Nic, there is something holding onto the back of the ship. I can't hit the retros if I risk injuring or killing someone."

"Give me manual! Either I hit the retros or I get torn apart by smegging simulants. You want to kill a simulant or a human? It's up to you, Miles!" Nic shook with terror; she would have gladly killed the simulant and every other one in the universe for what they had done to her and her shipmates. A light flickered on the console as Miles gave her manual control. She smashed her palm down on the retros button, her hand throbbing with the savage impact. Jets of superheated air and flames shot out from Starbug's exhaust, blowing the simulant away from Starbug and melting him down to a pile of plastic and metal. A volley of bazookoid fire hit the side of the ship, but barely made a dent. The transport bay door opened and Nic piloted the craft out into space, banging into the side of the doorway as she attempted to leave the ship much faster than to what she was accustomed. She increased the retros to max, trying to get herself as far away from the Lynx as possible.

"Put it back to auto, Miles. I need to rest. Just get as close to light speed as you possibly can for as long as you can. I want to put a lot of space between myself and that ship." Nic turned away from the console as soon as the autopilot button illuminated. She looked down at herself, her skin covered in wounds and dirt. Her arms were red and bruised from crawling over heated pipes. _You're safe now_, she thought. The realization washed over her and she put her head in her hands and sobbed. She was alive. She was safe.

"There's a problem," Miles intoned.

"Smegging hell, what is it now?" Nic lashed out between sobs.

"There's got to be some sort of trace on this Starbug. No matter how far away you get, the simulants will be able to track you."

"Isn't there a cloaking device on here? Can't you lie on your ident and say you're a derelict ship with no lifeforms aboard?"

"There's no cloak on Starbug that keeps it from being detected, only from being seen in visual range. The ship will still show up on radar. There's a more advanced cloak on the stasis pods if they have to go into space, but it hasn't been approved for full-sized vessels yet." Miles furrowed his brow in concentration. "I can sense a tracker on here... and... I've got it. Deck three. There's a box in one of the engine rooms. Destroy that and they can't immediately find Starbug. You should still try to get on another ship or head to a populated planet or moon as soon as possible. The whole vessel's covered in decals that say 'Property of SS Lynx and Jupiter Mining Corporation.' You're a sitting duck until you get out of here. Of course, there's a temporary solution."

"And what's that?" Nic asked, drying her eyes with the hem of her shirt. She caught her reflection in the windshield and grimaced: her face was sharper than she remembered, and slightly grayish from filth and fatigue. She poked at her bony right cheek gingerly. It felt tender and she wondered if it was bruised.

"Get rid of the tracker and I'll tell you."

"You're such a smeghead, Miles." She smiled wryly.

The tracker had been easy enough to find. The modifications that the simulants had made to Starbug were decidedly different from its basic, no-frills construction. The box containing the tracker was constructed from a sleek, shiny black metal, the inside of which contained components too complicated for Nic to figure out.

So she smashed it with the butt of a bazookoid until there was little left besides pieces of circuitry and wires. She then grabbed a vacuum and sucked up every last piece, then threw the vacuum into the waste disposal unit and flushed the whole business into space, just to be on the safe side.

"You know, you won't be able to clean up after yourself now," Miles reminded her.

"Since when do I do that?" she muttered to herself. "Now what's this temporary solution?"

"I can hide your life signs if you're in stasis. Because you no longer exist in time, you cannot be detected by traditional navigational equipment. If you hop in a stasis pod, you can stay in suspended animation until I either pilot Starbug back to the solar system or we find a friendly ship that's not populated with bloodthirsty simulants." Nic glared at him. "Either way, even if the simulants find this Starbug, I can shoot your pod out into space with that advanced cloak on it."

Nic sighed. "I'd rather not go into stasis," she said.

"It's your best chance of survival. Whatever you experienced back on the Lynx is going to be like a trip to the zoo compared to what the simulants are going to do to you if they find you."

"Then I guess that's that. Stasis awaits." Nic checked the pilot's console to make sure that Miles was steering the ship. As she turned away, she felt the ship lurch. "Going to LS now, Miles?"

"LS and beyond," came his quick reply. "Gotta pilot. See you when you wake up."

Nic stumbled as she tried to walk through the ship as it sped through space. She grasped everything she could get her hands on to keep herself from falling. She was already cut up, bruised, and slightly burned all over. She didn't want to add a broken bone to her long list of injuries. The stasis pods lay in a wall on the engine deck like morgue drawers; she had to pull one out and lay in it like the corpse she would have been if she'd chosen to follow the simulant. As she engaged the mechanism and was pulled back into the wall, she realized Starbug would be approaching the solar system by now if it was traveling above light speed. If they weren't already nearing the Kuiper Belt, then that meant...

And then the stasis field activated.


	4. Zero For Two

**Chapter 4: Zero For Two**

"Emergency, emergency. There's an emergency going on." Holly intoned flatly from the vidscreen in the sleeping quarters. She waited for a few seconds for an answer but received none. Peering around the room, she saw that it was empty. She wrinkled her nose, then performed an internal check of the ship, trying to figure out where the crew could be. She found all four of them in the ship's cinema.

"Emergency, emergency. There's an emergency going on." Holly projected herself this time from Kryten's stomach, hoping that at least the mechanoid would pay attention to her. Unlike the others, who were seated and watching a film, Kryten was standing in the aisle behind an ironing board, pressing a pair of the Cat's trousers. Holly tried her message again, her voice a little louder and with an edge of exasperation. Again, no answer. Kryten bobbed his head arrhythmically as he ironed; Holly reasoned he was probably listening to Jazz FM again. She sighed angrily.

The black and white images on the cinema screen cut out to reveal a black background, over which floated an annoyed Holly. "Oi! Smegheads! There's a emergency."

Cat reached into his bag of popcorn and threw a few kernels at the screen. "This movie is terrible! What the hell did you choose this for?"

"It's Holly, not the movie," Lister replied.

"What is it? Meteor storm? Aliens? Alien meteor storm?" Rimmer yawned. "Unless it's a life or death situation, I'd like to get back to watching the movie. And seeing as how I'm already dead, a life or death situation doesn't really apply in this case."

"All right, Holly, what's the emergency?" Lister asked, though by the tone of his voice Holly could tell he wanted to get the emergency out of the way so he could get back to loafing about.

"We're getting a distress signal from a passing ship. Looks to be a Starbug. The ship's AI says there's a lifeform inside: one human."

"Another Starbug? It's probably just some freaky alternate-dimension Lister who's here to finish off the seventy five thousand remaining microwave vindaloos," Rimmer moaned, rolling his eyes.

"Forget about it. That's my smegging food," Lister retorted, grabbing a handful of curry-flavored popcorn and stuffing it into his mouth.

"The Starbug isn't from Red Dwarf," Holly replied. "There's a full video dossier in the drive room." The Dwarfers got up from their seats, disappointed that they would have to wait to finish their movie. Kryten packed up his iron and board and stashed them in a nearby supply closet.

In the drive room, Lister plopped himself down on a chair, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Okay, so where's this ship from?"

"A decal on the starboard side says SS Lynx," Holly replied.

"The Lynx?" Kryten perked up. "Oh... oh dear."

"What is it now?" Cat complained. "Let's just see who's on the ship. If it's a monkey with soft squishy bits, we let her onboard. Otherwise we say sayonara and let them eat vapor trail."

"I'd heard about the Lynx on my first voyage. It was a Jupiter Mining Corporation vessel not unlike this one," Kryten explained.

"The difference being?" Lister asked.

"They were boarded by simulants and the entire crew was tortured to death." Rimmer made a squeaky panicked noise as he began to pace around the room.

"The Lynx Starbug's AI says there's a human survivor in a stasis pod," Holly added.

"Absolutely no-ski," Rimmer decided. "I'm not picking up another smegging pod."

"You wouldn't be picking it up. You can't touch anything!" the Cat argued.

"We are zero for two with pods. Remember that Quagaar pod we intercepted a few years back?"

"The Red Dwarf garbage pod, you mean." Lister chuckled.

"And then last year, when we picked up the stasis pod from Justice World. As I recall, we did not end up having tea and crumpets with Barbara Bellini."

"No, you ended up being sentenced to over nine thousand years in prison while Mister Lister and the Cat fought off a deranged simulant," Kryten said.

"Exactly. And this stasis pod also came from a ship overrun with simulants. I'm not taking that risk."

"There's no simulant on that craft," Holly said, annoyed. "Here's what the onboard computer sent me." Holly's face disappeared, replaced by the face of a red-haired man. The video quality was poor, with static occasionally drowning out the man's voice.

"This is Miles, twelfth-generation AI of the transport vehicle Starbug... the Jupiter Mining Corporation... Lynx. There is one ...cupant aboard, third class... officer... ola Hawkins. Starbug is... on power. I'm not sure that I can gener... enough power to restart... y-generation unit. Please help. Information ...sfer underway." The man's image was overtaken by static.

"What the smeg was that?" Rimmer snapped.

Holly's face reappeared. "Pulling up crew information on... whatever monitor's over there," she said, tilting her head to the right.

"It seems as though there is a human survivor aboard, if we are to believe Miles." Kryten looked at the newly illuminated monitor. "A Nicola Hawkins, science officer, third class."

"An officer?" Lister asked incredulously. "Someone who can boss Rimmer around?" Rimmer looked at Lister, wide-eyed with poorly-hidden fear.

"Not a very high-ranking one, but an officer nonetheless," Kryten confirmed.

"A woman?" Cat asked. He leaned toward the monitor that held Officer Hawkins' file. In her identification picture, a dour woman stared out, her lips pursed in a straight line, her face emotionless. Her brown hair was pulled back into severe bun. "Ugh! She looks like a real downer!"

"Everyone looks bad in those pictures," Lister countered. "Holly, pull up my ship ID." She did so; Lister wore the exact same expression, or at least he had tried to. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes were unfocused. "I mean, I was a bit drunk in that picture, but they all look bad."

"Can we get back to the problem at hand? I do not want to risk having some psychotic cybernetic killing machine coming onboard and tearing me limb from limb!" Rimmer shouted.

"Sir, you don't actually have any limbs. You have computer generations of limbs," Kryten reminded him calmly.

"I don't care! I don't want a simulant tearing my lightbee apart, either."

"I'm bringing her in," Lister decided, tapping a few buttons on the drive console.

"Okay, let's say we're bringing her in," Rimmer said, trying to be diplomatic, though his walk sped up as he spoke. "She's been drifting in deep space for God knows how many years, and God only knows whatever that ship's carrying."

"Let's just bring her around to the sanitization room, dust her off, and wait for her to hatch from the magic egg," Cat suggested.

"An absolutely spot-on suggestion, sir, with just two minor flaws: one, we don't have a sanitization room, and two, there's no such thing as a sanitization room," Kryten responded.

"Damn." The Cat scowled. "I was so close to having a great idea."

"I want that pod in quarantine. I don't want a simulant running around the ship and using our intestines as decorations for his next torture and cheese party," Rimmer insisted, gesticulating wildly.

"If I tell the AI to send the pod to bay 47, will you shut the smeg up?" Lister asked, his eyes narrowed at the hologram.

"Gladly," Rimmer chirped in reply, and stopped pacing.


	5. On The Pull

**Chapter 5: On The Pull**

"I've started the RP," Kryten notified the crew as he exited Quarantine Room 273, locking the door behind him. "She should be out in twenty-four hours."

"Doesn't that defeat the entire purpose of quarantine, going in there and starting the thaw process?" Lister asked, glaring at Rimmer.

"Of course it does," Kryten replied. "There's no need for the pod to be in quarantine, though technically it is safer than leaving it out in the open."

"See? There's a method to my madness." Rimmer smirked smugly, then saluted himself.

"A wholly unintentional one, I'm sure. If, despite the reams of digital evidence that the computer onboard the Lynx's Starbug provided us, there is a simulant inside that stasis pod, we'll be able to hold it in that quarantine room," Kryten said.

"Score one for Rimsy!"

"Keep your H on," Cat retorted. "There's got to be a downside. There always is."

"Exactly. You didn't let me finish, sir. We'll be able to hold a simulant in that quarantine room until it breaks out, tracks us down, and creates interesting abstract art with our vital organs."

"And how long will that take? Ten minutes?" Lister asked, snorting.

"Probably closer to five," Kryten answered. Rimmer narrowed his eyes at the droid.

"Hold up a second," Cat said. "You're saying I was right about something?"

Kryten nodded. "Apparently you have beaten the astronomically high odds." Cat grinned toothily as Lister and Rimmer rolled their eyes.

"So we've got twenty four hours to prepare for some specimen of loveliness? I'd better get started!" He started mentally noting the beauty procedures to be done - a leg hair perm, to start - and tried to think which suit would make the best statement. Perhaps the hot pink leopard print, or the silver lamé.

"Not twenty minutes ago you were calling her 'a real downer,' you idiotic house pet," Rimmer scoffed.

"Yeah, but as long as she doesn't look like you, gerbil face, or crushed-car head, I'd be willing to lower my pretty damn high standards." Cat licked a finger and smoothed out an imaginary crease on one of his lapels.

"Who's to say she's going to like either of you? She's an officer: she's probably smart, sophisticated--" Lister started.

Rimmer interrupted him. "And will probably immediately vomit upon seeing us."

"Let's face it, sirs. The chance of Officer Hawkins becoming romantically interested in any of you is about as likely as the Cat taking fashion tips from Mister Lister," Kryten reasoned.

"Yeah! Maybe she's blind, or stupid!" Cat exclaimed, causing another eye roll.

"This from a man who's had less sexual experience than Rimmer. It'd be nice to have a feminine touch on the ship. We wouldn't have to get blind drunk before we play strip poker," Lister mused. His mouth quirked in a slight smile, his eyes looking at the ceiling, as he considered the possibilities that a female crew member would add.

After a few moments of inane simpering, Kryten chose to end Lister's reverie. "Personally, I'm looking forward to cleaning a pair of underwear without needing the use of a drill."

---------------

"Next." An elaborate uniform popped up on the vidscreen in the sleeping quarters. Rimmer appraised the immaculate white jacket and trousers, emblazoned with gold braid, huge epaulets, and a plethora of medals on the left breast. "Holly, let's try this one," he said, standing up to await his clothing change.

"That's for a second-class admiral. You clean out vending machines," she pointed out.

"I don't care! I want to try the uniform!" Rimmer puffed out his chest as Holly outfitted him, adding a cap with a large gold Space Corps emblem. He strode over to the mirror, nodding in approval at the getup.

Lister entered the room. "Nice keks, Rimmer!" Rimmer looked at his roommate incredulously.

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course not," Lister snorted. "You're not trying to play A.J. Rimmer, Space Adventurer again, are you?"

"Maybe if I don't say anything and just stand around looking rangy and handsome, it'll take what's-her-name five minutes rather than two to completely loathe and despise me." Rimmer adjusted his collar. "That's the strategy."

"Well maybe _what's-her-name_ wouldn't loathe and despise you if you bothered learning her name." Lister climbed into his bunk and started leafing through a dog-eared copy of What Bike.

"Do _you _know her name?"

"Holly, what's the girl's name?" Lister asked. The AI rolled her eyes and put Officer Hawkins' information on the screen.

"See? You're just as bad as I am," Rimmer remarked, still fussing over the details of his ridiculous uniform. He took off his cap, smoothed his hair down, then replaced it. "So when are you going to start primping? If you work through the night, maybe you can manage to come off as the second smeggiest organism in the universe."

"Unlike you, I'm not on the pull." Lister fished around in his jacket pockets until his hands closed around a half-empty can of warm lager, then took a long drink from it.

Rimmer stopped adjusting his suit, looking at Lister incredulously. "Liar!"

"I'm just going to go in as myself. No lies, no smeg. Just pure, unadulterated Dave Lister."

"That doesn't count as not being on the pull, Lister. That just means you're not trying." Now Rimmer was polishing his medals with an immaculate sleeve, causing the metal to shine brightly - or at least as brightly as computer-generated medals could shine.

"I'm not wearing medals I didn't earn. I'm not dressing up as the smegging Commander of the Universe or something," Lister replied, slurping the last drops of lager from the can, then tossing it in the general vicinity of the waste disposal unit.

"You're absolutely disgusting, Lister. The only way you'd pull--" he looked over to the screen-- "Officer Nicola Hawkins is if she somehow suffers a massive head injury and confuses you with someone who doesn't enjoy Corn Flakes with a side of tabasco and onions."

"I know that's your tried and true method." Lister smirked. The hologram muttered a few choice words under his breath. "Maybe we should, you know, try to treat her like a normal person. You heard Kryten. She's coming from a ship that was taken over by simulants." Rimmer continued to fuss with his uniform, obviously not listening to his roommate. "And it's not like you could ever, ever, ever touch her in a million years, even if she did get a concussion and fall madly in love with you."

"I doubt the girl's going to fall 'madly in love' with you, either. You smell like a curry that's been passed through a diseased hippopotamus who really let himself go. And that's on a good day."

"Women love my musk! And unlike you, I've managed to go to bed with women who weren't mentally impaired or dead."

"You've certainly come close," Rimmer observed.

"Compared to you, I'm a smegging Adonis." Lister lifted one arm and sniffed his armpit. He reasoned he could go another day or so before he really needed a shower, but perhaps he'd make a concession to the new arrival and scrub up a little. He hopped down from the bunk and took off his jacket, boots, and socks, then grabbed a towel and headed toward the bathroom.

"Look at you! Showering more than once in a week!" Rimmer's face lit up with a grin, his nostrils flaring. "Listy boy, you are officially on the pull."

"Then let the best smegger win."


	6. One For Three

**Chapter 6: One For Three**

The lid of the stasis pod slid open, the light of the room briefly blinding Nic. It took her a few moments to regain enough eyesight to realize that she was no longer on Starbug. Instead of the relatively dim, gray engine deck, she emerged somewhere bright and white. She squinted as she tried to pull herself out of the pod and into wherever she'd managed to end up. Nic was able to sit up easily despite a sore back, then tried to stand. She braced herself on the sides of the pod, but her tired arms and a muscle cramp in her right shoulder made it difficult. Groaning low in her throat with frustration, she tried once more to stand, her knees creaking. Nic managed to step over the pod's side walls and free herself, but immediately sat back down on its end, panting with the exertion. Her hair hung over her face in a greasy curtain as she put her head down and stared at her lap, attempting to catch her breath.

Stasis had not been the nap she had expected; even though Nic knew she'd be frozen in time, she expected to at least feel a little better. She felt logy as though she had slept too long, but did not feel rested. The combination annoyed her and she considered falling asleep where she lay on the floor, but nausea and fear kept her from passing out in her current position. _I'm certainly not on the Lynx anymore, but where am I? _she thought. She pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears, and looked around the room: she was in a standard quarantine cell with four bunks, three of which were closed off. Her pod lay approximately in the middle of the room; looking around, she could see a door that presumably led to a bathroom, a desk and chair, and a window that seemed to look out into the ship where she was being held. _At this point, imprisonment doesn't seem so bad as long as there are no smegging simulants on this ship._

Nic tipped her head up and looked out the window, trying to see if anyone was outside. "Hello?" she asked. She recoiled at the sound of her voice; it was weak and raspy. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hello?" The window illuminated, revealing four men: a mechanoid, a grungy-looking human, a hologram in an elaborate uniform, and another impeccably-dressed human who vaguely resembled a cat. They all grinned as though anticipating her arrival. She raised her eyebrows, her expression bemused though slightly scared.

"Hi there!" the cat-man exclaimed, waving. Nic let out a short yelp, trying not to fall backwards into the pod. She wasn't sure if she had it in her to climb out again.

"I told you not to speak first, Mister Cat! Now you've scared our guest," the mechanoid said.

"No, I'm... I'm fine," Nic managed to say, though she realized she was hyperventilating. "Just a little startled." She took a few deep breaths and tried to order her jumbled thoughts. "Okay. Uh, first things first. Where am I?"

"This is the mining ship Red Dwarf," the hologram answered.

Nic furrowed her brow, trying to comprehend the situation. "No way. You've got to be kidding me. Isn't Red Dwarf the ship where all those people died?"

"Yes indeedy," the hologram said.

"And it was your fault," the human cut in, his thickly accented words sarcastically delivered. The hologram stuck up his middle finger at him and retorted snappily, which led to an argument.

"Okay, okay, both of you shut up for a second." The two men stopped bickering. "Red Dwarf was let go into deep space because none of the spaceports would accept a giant radioactive ship." Nic paused for a moment to work out what she was trying to say. "How long have I been in stasis? Keep in mind that I probably don't want to know this."

The mechanoid began to speak but was silenced by the human. "I've been in stasis before so I know how it feels to be disorientated when you get out." He paused. Nic shrugged, waiting for him to speak. "About three million years."

"_What?_" she shrieked.

"You've been in stasis for three million years," the human repeated.

"Three million years? Smeg!" She paused. "I still owe my brother fifty dollarpounds!"

"If it makes you feel better, your brother's probably dead," the cat-man said. Nic shook her head, unable to comprehend the current situation.

"I get it, I get it. I'm hallucinating. I've been jettisoned out into space and as I'm suffocating, my brain has decided to shut down and torture me in the process. Go figure, I spend my last two months being tortured by simulants and my last two minutes being tortured by my brain. Thanks a smegging bunch, God!" Nic ranted.

"Ma'am, Mr. Lister and Mr. Rimmer are not joking. You've been in stasis for the past three million years until we received your distress signal," the mechanoid said.

Nic looked around suspiciously. Her voice lowered, as though divulging a secret. "Any... any simulants around?"

"None that we've encountered recently," the mechanoid replied.

"Recently? What's that supposed to mean?"

"We ran into one from Justice World about a year ago, and there was one who tried to erase us from history a few months back, but it's been quiet ever since," the human said. Nic sighed with relief, then groaned.

"Are you all right, Officer Hawkins, ma'am?" the mechanoid asked.

"Just nauseous and tired. And my shoulder's kinda sore," she said, rubbing it. "Is there even a Space Corps around to call me an officer? I'm Nic. Just Nic." She waved one hand, dismissing the idea of her rank.

"All right, Miss Nic, ma'am." Nic shrugged; she figured this would be the best she'd get from the mechanoid. "This here," the mechanoid said, gesturing to the human, "is Mister Lister. The hologram is Mister Rimmer, and this is Mister Cat. My name is Kryten." Nic replied with a weak nod. The others greeted her so enthusiastically, their hellos overlapping into a wall of incomprehensible noise, that she wondered if she was the only woman on the ship. Nic started to cough, covering her mouth with a balled fist. She groaned again, this time with more discomfort.

"Miss Nic, ma'am, are you sure you're all right?" Kryten asked.

"I think I'm going to be..." Nic stopped talking, her words silenced by gagging. She tried to gesture to ask where the bathroom was, but the people on the other side of the glass seemed confused. So she found the first available place to vomit: inside the stasis pod. She braced herself against the side and tipped her head in, her torso spasming as she forcefully revisited a three-million-year-old meal. After dry heaving a few times, Nic sat on the floor, holding her head in her hands. Her eyes were bleary with tears, a string of saliva hanging from her lips. She sniffled a few times, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at being watched.

"That's very attractive," Cat said sarcastically, his top lip curled in disgust.

"Just as I suspected," Rimmer muttered. "She'd throw up at the sight of us."

"With your face, I'd say that's a positive reaction!" the Cat sniped.

Kryten puttered along to the closest medical bay, grabbing a portable mediscanner and a first aid kit. He came back to see Lister, Rimmer, and Cat watching Nic begin a fresh round of vomiting. After punching in a code on the quarantine room's lock, Kryten entered the room and helped Nic to her feet.

"Nausea is a common side effect of extended periods in stasis, but I need to check you out on the mediscanner to make sure you're all right. That's why we've got you in quarantine." He opened the first aid kit and passed Nic a bottle of water and a few tissues to clean her mouth, then pointed the mediscanner at her. She twisted the cap off the bottle and took a few long swigs, swishing the water around her mouth. After a few moments, the mediscanner beeped, signaling the end of its analysis.

"So am I going to die?" Nic asked sarcastically.

"You're clean, ma'am."

"So do I need to stay in quarantine? Now, I know, there are Space Corps regs and all that, but I'd rather not be stuck in here for five days."

"I still need time to prepare your quarters on the officers' deck. It will be another day or two. Is that all right?"

Nic shrugged weakly. "Just as long as I can get a few books, maybe a vid or some music. I don't really care. I spent a couple of months in prison, I'll take pretty much anything at this point."

"What about dinner? Mister Lister is having an extra-hot goat vindaloo, very delicious."

"Should I be eating something so spicy after throwing up everywhere?"

"'So spicy' is a bit of an understatement when it comes to Mister Lister, ma'am. He has only one operational tastebud. Do you have any preferences for your meal?"

"I don't know," Nic groaned. "Just as long as it's not bread and water and it won't make me throw up anymore. I just want to get some sleep."

Kryten stood up and turned toward the door. He tried to figure out what to do to make the new human feel a little better about being stuck on the ship. After a few nanoseconds of intense computation, he decided on an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Make yourself at home."


	7. Room For One More

**Chapter 7: Room For One More**

Kryten nearly overloaded his tact chip trying not to grimace while Nic ate. He entered her room with a plate of pasta with olive oil, something simple so as not to upset her stomach. Nic's eyes lit up hungrily at the food as Kryten set it down in front of her, then attacked the meal with the little strength she could muster. The droid had to snatch his hand away quickly; he was afraid it would get caught in the new arrival's ravenous maw. She paused occasionally to drink from the glass of water that Kryten had provided, the liquid dribbling out of the corners of her mouth. After a few minutes she had cleared her plate, tracing a finger over it to pick up the last few dregs of sauce.

"Did you enjoy it, ma'am?" Kryten said flatly, showing no trace of disgust.

Nic breathed heavily, her appetite not quite sated. "Can I have some more? I haven't eaten like that in months."

Kryten suppressed the urge to tell her that she probably hadn't eaten like that since her ancestors came down from the trees, but tried to maintain some level of his servile personality. "If you eat too much, you'll get ill. I advise that you rest for now, and I'll bring your breakfast in the morning."

She belched loudly, causing Kryten's usually-impassive face to belie a slight scowl. "Sorry," she apologized. "I'll probably have better table manners when I'm not hungry enough to chew my pillow. I'm usually a little better than this."

"It's no problem at all, ma'am," the mechanoid replied. "Just get some rest. I'll be back at ten o'clock." He shuffled out of the room as Nic dragged herself over to her bunk, practically falling into it with exhaustion. She let out a low, contented sigh as she pulled the covers over her body and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

"So what do you think of Miss Nic?" Kryten asked as he brought a tray of food to Lister and Rimmer's sleeping quarters. Lister leapt out of his chair to claim his vindaloo, while the Cat sat patiently as Kryten set a dish of Krispies in front of him.

"She looks slightly healthier than the crew of the ship we found you on." Rimmer scoffed from his bunk, turning a page in a hologrammatically-generated book.

"Sir, they were all skeletons!"

"And she doesn't seem far from that."

"Mister Rimmer, sir, the mediscan found that Miss Nic was suffering from malnutrition. Who knows how often she ate or what she ate when she was aboard the Lynx?"

The hologram snorted. "Then maybe you should check what she left in the stasis pod."

"She did look a bit of a mess," Lister conceded.

The Cat stopped eating for a moment. "A bit of a mess? She's got about as much meat on her bones as a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken."

If he was going to be honest, Lister had been shocked by the bedraggled wreck that had climbed out of the stasis pod. The girl was wan and thin, her disconcertingly pale skin marred all over by cuts, bruises, and scars. As she stood, he felt sick as he saw how loosely the remnants of her uniform hung on her: her worn and tattered clothing fit like a funeral shroud. Her face was drawn, dark circles under her haunted gray eyes, her cheekbones jutting out above her cracked lips and sharp chin. Her long brown hair hung limply, a dull frame for a dull face. Lister imagined she would have been somewhat pretty if he had met her in normal circumstances; he probably would have chatted her up at a bar. In her current state, he was horrified, though due to poor disco lighting he probably still would have chatted her up.

"I can't believe we joked about being on the cop. She looks like death." Lister shook his head sadly as he scooped up a forkful of curried goat.

"She still looks better than you do!" Cat exclaimed.

Rimmer put down his book and cocked his head in thought. "Well, maybe if she puts on a few pounds, does her hair and makeup, puts on a nice dress - something short--"

"Both of you, shut up. She's not in any state to deal with a bunch of horny guys trying to take her down the disco. She's sick." Lister sighed. He wasn't sure what was more pitiful: the sight of Nic, who had clearly been tortured and abused at the hands of simulants, or the idea that Rimmer and the Cat would still try to charm her.

"Lister, I know you. In four hours you'll be panting at the door of the quarantine suit like a dog waiting for a scratch behind the ears," Rimmer said, shaking his head.

"Anyone who looks like they've recently died is not - repeat, _not_ - fair game."

"Maybe not, but when she gets better... phwoar!" Rimmer gestured with his fist and elbow, the way he usually did in lieu of acting like an adult about sex. Lister rolled his eyes.

"Then I'll _tactfully _approach her with the idea of repopulating the human race. Real classy, strictly business. And if we have to repopulate the human race a few times a day for the next twenty or so years, I'm willing to do my part."

"Would you like me to dry-clean your Spiderman costume?" Kryten asked.

---------------

"Rimmer?" Lister asked softly. He leaned out over the edge of the bunk, trying to make out his roommate's form in the darkness. "You awake?" Rimmer groaned and shifted in his bed, snoring softly. Smiling, Lister hopped down from the bunk, landing softly on his bare feet. He had sneaked out of the room so many times before, he considered himself almost catlike in his stealth; the offhand comment had caused Cat to laugh at him until he'd nearly choked. While congratulating himself for his silent move, Lister tripped over one of his boots, snarling loudly as his foot connected harshly with the steel toe. He hopped on one foot, his injured toes throbbing.

Rimmer sat up in his bunk. "What? What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily. Lister stopped mid-hop, trying to stand still.

"Just stubbed me toe on the way to the loo. Go back to sleep."

"Okay, Mother," he slurred, putting his head down on the pillow and starting to snore again.

Lister felt around on the floor for a pair of pants and his shoes, then left the room to dress in the hallway. He didn't want to turn the lights on for fear of Rimmer getting up; the hologram would just bother him and ask where he was going, and it was too early for an interrogation. Lister finished getting dressed, then went to go find the Cat.

---------------

Rimmer awoke to silence. Blearily, he looked for the clock on a nearby counter; its illuminated red numbers read 9:12am. His space bum of a roommate would normally be dropping off to sleep at about that time, and yet there was no snoring, no farting, no half-murmured dream overtures to Kristine Kochanski.

"Lights!" Rimmer leapt from his bed and peered into the berth above his - no Lister. "Holly!" he barked. His reflection in the mirror started to wobble and then turn black as Holly appeared on the screen.

"What?" she replied, annoyed.

"Where is Lister?"

"Where do you think he is? We've got a girl on board," Holly answered sarcastically.

"Quarantine? I knew it!" Rimmer clenched his fists triumphantly. "Dress!" His white shirt and boxers were replaced with a red uniform.

"You were going to go down to quarantine even if Lister wasn't there," Holly noted.

"Was not. I was merely going to take a quick jog around the ship to keep my hologramatic body fit, as I usually do. If I happen to pass the quarantine floor and make some small talk with our new arrival, so be it." Rimmer smiled smugly; he'd stayed up late the night before crafting the excuse and he believed he had delivered it quite convincingly.

Holly cocked one eyebrow. "Rimmer, I may be three million years old and senile, but I'm not stupid."

"Oh, smeg off, Holly. Now kindly furnish me with a copy of _How To Pick Up Girls By Hypnosis_ and an extra pair of socks." The book appeared in his hand. "Holly, my socks?"

"You're wearing socks."

"They aren't for my feet," he mumbled. Holly rolled her eyes. "Forget it, forget it!" Rimmer snapped, storming out of the sleeping quarters.

The lift seemed to take forever as he descended the thousand or so floors to the quarantine floor. Despite his hologramatic state he couldn't just float down through the floors or walk through walls. His mouth quirked into a small grin as he imagined being able to pass through the door in Quarantine, maybe just as the girl was getting changed...

He sobered himself. At best he'd be able to get his head through, maybe an arm and a leg as well before his light bee would bounce off the door and he'd careen back into the corridor. And it wasn't as though he could do anything if he'd managed to worm his way in. There was his inability to converse with women without making them hate him, his failure at hypnosis and every other form of seduction, and the whole being dead thing. Even if he managed to speak to her, even if he she beat the ten trillion to one odds and she managed to like him, he had no chance in hell of stealing a kiss... or a surreptitious grope.

Rimmer rounded the corner to the corridor that housed Quarantine Room 273. Lister and Cat had dragged a bench from somewhere - most likely the waiting area by the lift - and had perched themselves on it, staring dumbly like spectators at a zero-gee football game. The area of the corridor was dark, presumably so they could leer privately.

"So," Rimmer began, walking in front of the two gawkers and blocking their view of the window, "I see you lot have taken a shine to our new addition. Pathetic! You're like a couple of schoolboys who've found their dad's 3-D Playboy."

"Rimmer!" Lister hissed quietly. "Sit the smeg down and shut the smeg up!"

"And you!" he exclaimed, turning toward Lister. "I thought you said you weren't interested in her. Talking about how someone who's _not in any state to deal with a bunch of horny guys trying to take her down the disco_," he imitated. "You're not just a pervert, you're a hypocrite."

"Would you get out of the way, Alphabet Head? I'm trying to enjoy the view!" Cat swiped one hand in the air, gesturing for Rimmer to move.

"Absolutely disgusting. You're a pair of peeping toms. What could possibly be so interesting?" The two men silently pointed at the window, too excited to speak.

Rimmer turned around to see Nic, a towel wrapped around her frail body, having just emerged from the shower room. She ran her fingers through her wet hair, her towel riding low as she used both hands to work out a knot. As she untangled her hair, she hummed to herself, something low and off-key.

"Room for one more?" Rimmer asked excitedly, taking a seat with the others.


	8. Smeg Off

Sorry for the delay, guys. I've been having some technical problems but everything seems to be all right now. Chapter 9 should be up by the end of the week. Enjoy! xoxo, Aeronie

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**Chapter 8: Smeg Off**

Taking a shower, despite finally approaching a vague semblance of cleanliness, was a harrowing experience for Nic. It was the first time since her imprisonment that she had had more than a few moments to scrub a few vital areas, and the first time she had been able to see just how emaciated she had become. At first, Nic had cried. Her limbs were alarmingly thin, her ribs protruding from beneath her translucent skin, which had become a dull, piscine white-gray. Nic had been average-sized in her regular life, a fairly unremarkable form, but she could no longer recognize the curve of her hips and belly or the fullness of her face. Her body felt inhospitable, all planes and sharp angles. Her wounds made her body seem more foreign; she had cuts and scars in places where she could have sworn she had none, as though they had multiplied during her time in stasis.

Nic ran her hands over her body, trying to figure out what had changed. She traced a few ridged scars with an exploratory finger: she had expected more, but could only find a few on her shoulders and legs that really stood out, most likely from a simulant whose preferred weapon was a whip. There was a raw welt on her right shoulder that stung when the water hit it; it leaked a little blood when she poked at it. The muscles underneath ached dully. Rubbing her hands over her face, it felt tender, though not swollen; she figured she probably had a bruise on one cheek and perhaps her jaw; some of her teeth felt loose due to a beating she had suffered a week before her escape. By the end of her shower she felt exasperated with the broken-down body she was left with.

The shower itself was more like a glorified closet with a hose attachment in the wall. The tepid water sluggishly dripped from the shower head as though someone was forcing it to come out against its will. She had been able to scrub off the grime that she'd managed to hang onto through a few million years in stasis, but the water itself felt dirty. Nic shuddered as she realized that it had probably been recycled over and over again from sources she didn't really want to imagine. She still felt unclean despite scrubbing until her skin turned pink. Still, it was better than nothing, she reasoned, and having a thick towel to wrap herself in afterward made the experience almost luxurious in comparison to her time on the Lynx.

The quarantine room seemed impossibly large to her as she took a slow walk around its perimeter, dripping water as she went. The vomit-covered stasis pod was mysteriously absent; the mechanoid must have removed it while she was asleep. As she walked, she didn't realized how accommodated she'd been to being trapped in the brig on the Lynx. Even though Nic was technically being held in the quarantine suite for another day, there was no torture looming in the near future. She checked the clock on the wall. The mechanoid would be coming by with a hot breakfast in half an hour. She smiled. Everything was good, except for her sore shoulder. Nic briefly massaged the area, making the pain subside again. _Probably just a side effect of stasis. I should ask - what's his name... Lister? - if he was sore when he got out of the booth._

On the other side of the window, the three men gawked as Nic explored the room. "Do you think she knows we're watching?" Cat asked. "It's like she took a look at my files on the dream recorder!"

"Shut up," Lister growled, swatting Cat's shoulder. "I'm about to see my first breasts in three million years. Don't spoil it." He looked over at Rimmer, who seemed to be catatonic. His smiling mouth hung open slightly.

Nic walked over to the table and saw that the mechanoid had also brought her a few vids and a pile of clothes that had been neatly folded and stacked in a basket. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of warm laundry. The mechanoid had also included a note on top of the stack: "I am currently going through the female crew members' artifacts to find you some clothes. Here is enough to last you for your brief quarantine; the rest will be in your room on the officers' deck. Sincerely, Kryten." Shrugging, she sifted through the pile, and chose a black shirt and pants that had probably been intended for pajamas. She was about to drop her towel and throw on some underwear when she heard a low clinking sound from outside the room.

"Aw, smeg, you knocked my lager over," Lister moaned, attempting to wipe up the mess with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Why are you drinking a can of lager at nearly ten in the morning, anyway?" Rimmer groused. "Whatever happened to your glass of chilled vindaloo sauce?"

"Forget about him, what about my clothes?" Cat exclaimed, jumping up when he realized a few droplets of beer had splashed onto his pants. "If I have to spend my time on this ship looking like him," he said, gesturing at Lister's beer- and curry-stained shirt, "I might as well kill myself."

Rimmer shushed him as he saw Nic cock her head and furrow her brow. "I think our guest has noticed us, you goits."

"Is someone out there?" Nic called, her hands gripping her towel tightly. Fear and anger burned in her cheeks; someone was looking at her, and that someone had almost seen her naked. She narrowed her eyes as she listened intently to whoever was outside. There were a few hushed voices, perhaps a slight scuffle as she heard some movement. Nic took a few steps forward until she was right up against the window and shielded her squinting eyes with one hand. She saw what looked like a faint silhouette of three shapes. Cat, Lister, and Rimmer all tensed up, trying to stay as still as possible. Perhaps if they didn't move, Nic would not see them.

Sighing, she shrugged and said loudly to herself, "I guess no one's out there." The three guys all relaxed in their seats; Nic detected a subtle shift in the darkness outside her window. She smiled, preparing to remove her towel. Instead, she breathed on the window, forming a large area of opaque condensation.

"What's she doing?" Rimmer asked.

"You promised I'd get to see something good, monkey," Cat complained.

Quickly, so as not to let the condensation dry, she started tracing large letters onto the glass backwards so that her audience could see them. Once she was finished writing SMEG OFF in inch-high letters, she waved out the window, put up a middle finger, and went back into the shower room, grabbing her clothes on the way.

"This is your fault," Cat and Rimmer said simultaneously, glaring at Lister.


	9. Freedumb

Hey guys, I know it's been a while. I was in a pretty bad car accident so fic-writing took a backseat to real life. I'm doing better now, so that means more story for you guys. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 9: Freedumb**

Nic lay in her bunk, her eyes glazing over as she watched a mind-numbingly awful episode of _Androids_. Kryten had given her a vid of the complete ninth series to pass the time; Nic wondered if he knew, like everyone else, that the show had hit its peak in season five and had been practically unwatchable after season seven. Still, it was better than the other offerings the mechanoid had brought in: an instructional guide to trellis gardening and a sappy romance movie that she'd turned off after fifteen minutes.

The door to her room whooshed open, revealing Kryten, who carried a breakfast tray. The scent of waffles covered in fresh butter and maple syrup wafted across the room. Nic felt her mouth water; she wasn't aware that mouths actually did that, only that the phrase was used in ads for products that were invariably disgusting. She managed to restrain herself from bolting across the room to devour her breakfast, consciously taking a slow walk from the bunk to the table. Sitting down calmly, she cut off a small piece of waffle, dipping it in syrup, then chewed it slowly.

"This is really good," she murmured between bites. "Thanks."

"Are you feeling any better today, ma'am? Any nausea, headaches, disorientation?" Kryten asked.

"I'm good. Just a little tired. And, uh, I had some interaction with the crew." Nic attempted to sound cheerful about her encounter but her voice came out flat and annoyed.

"I take it from your tone that you're in sarcasm mode. What happened?"

Nic decided to drop all pretense of not being irritated. "Your _buddies_ decided to take advantage of that nice big window and try to watch me getting changed." She looked up at Kryten uncertainly. "Please tell me they're not always like this," she pleaded.

"Oh dear. Who was it?" Kryten fussed.

"All of them. Minus you, obviously. Look, I know I've got pretty low standards for accommodations since I spent the last two months of my life being beaten by deranged killing machines, but I'd rather not have my life turned into a peep show. If that's too much to ask, I'll take my chances in stasis."

"I'll notify them immediately. I haven't used disciplinarian mode in a while, but I'll be sure to tell them that they did a very naughty thing and not to do it again!" He wagged his finger at her, practicing for his lecture.

"Don't make a huge deal of it. I still have to live with them for... a while." She paused for a few moments. "Oh God. I'm stuck here for the rest of my life, aren't I?"

"Don't talk like that. We're trying to get back to Earth."

Nic scoffed. "If it still exists."

"It's better than drifting aimlessly in space," Kryten reasoned.

"What do you do here? Hopefully something more interesting than having a beer and a curry and staring at the wall."

The mechanoid gave her an contrite look. Nic groaned. "Ma'am, I apologize. The crew is, well, um..."

"A bunch of space bums and idiots?"

Kryten paused for a few moments. "In a word, yes."

Nic sighed. "And I'm stuck here. Suddenly torture seems appealing."

"Ma'am, they're not all that bad. It's just been a while since they've had contact with a female that wasn't a pleasure GELF."

"I bet that one went well," she said, frowning. "I can tell this is going to be a ton of fun."

---------------

Nic had spent most of the next day sleeping, waking up only to stare blearily at the vid of interminable _Androids _episodes or eat the meals that Kryten brought her. If the crew watched her, she neither noticed nor cared since she wasn't doing anything even remotely salacious. Even though the mattress of the quarantine bunk was thin, it was infinitely more comfortable than the cold floor of her prison cell. Her blanket, though somewhat scratchy, kept her frail body warm. Each time she woke, Nic felt a little bit better, a little less weak. Her shoulder still ached, but she figured it would be a few days or weeks until the pain fully subsided. It was a minor inconvenience; she was free of the simulants - no more torture. Her lips curled up in a contented feline smile as she slept. Compared to the Lynx, at least, life was good.

Once more, Kryten entered the quarantine room, greeting Nic warmly. She poked her head out from the bunk, her hair tangled and mussed from sleep. She squinted, trying to focus her gaze, and could make out that the mechanoid wasn't carrying a tray. Her stomach growled, as if responding to the disappointment.

"What's going on?" Nic murmured. She was exhausted from having slept so long. Her vision was blurry; her words came out thick and slurred. "What time is it?"

"I just wanted to notify you that your quarters are ready. It's half past ten in the morning," the droid replied. He stood at the entrance to the room, seemingly impatient to leave.

It took a few moments for Nic's sleep-addled mind to process Kryten's statement, and a few more to come up with a reply. "Breakfast?"

"It's all in your new room, if you'll just follow me." Wordlessly, she dragged herself out of the bunk, her joints popping as she stood. She let out a low, throaty groan and rubbed her eyes, then followed Kryten toward her quarters.

"So where's everyone else?" Nic asked, yawning. "I thought I'd get a hero's welcome." She snorted.

"Mister Rimmer is taking his morning jog. Mister Lister and the Cat are both asleep. They're not early risers."

"Any plans for today?"

"Well, I'll be scrubbing Mister Lister's long johns, then perhaps a quick break to mop and scrub the sleeping quarters, then maybe getting a start on getting the curry stains out of his t-shirts," Kryten replied.

"Fascinating," Nic grumbled. "And the others? I guess there's not going to be a poetry recital or a debate on the nature of the universe."

"Are you interested in poetry and the nature of the universe, ma'am?"

"No, but I prefer it to slobbing around all day. I can only take about six hours of laziness before it gets boring." She smirked at Kryten, whose face remained impassive. The mechanoid did not seem to catch her attempt at a joke.

"I'm sure you can find something to occupy your time. Red Dwarf is the size of a small city, after all."

"Yeah, maybe I'll go exploring."


	10. The Wrong Side

**Chapter 10: The Wrong Side**

Nic pressed the door release to a room marked Gymnasium. The door slid open, revealing a large room separated into sections by exercise equipment: treadmills and stationary bikes next to weights, and a corner of the room that housed several punching bags and other boxing equipment. She chose a large brown leather bag that hung from the ceiling. Nic grinned at her luck. She had done a bit of boxing as part of her initial training in the Space Corps as a way to channel her aggression. As a former delinquent, she found the Corps' excessive rules stifling and was given scores of demerits for insubordination and starting fights until she was given the opportunity to discipline herself through training. Nic hadn't been the best at the sport, but she was good enough that she enjoyed it and kept training through her tours with the JMC. There was only one thing to do before she started her workout.

"Hey, Holly?" Nic said the computer's name uncertainly. She was so used to calling on Miles for every little thing that switching names felt wrong.

"Yeah?"

"Does the ship have a music library? If it does, would you mind putting something on? Something angry, preferably. Like the background music to a riot."

"Can do," the computer chirped. The room filled with loud music that sounded like rastabilly skank on amphetamines, played by mental patients. Nic smiled and nodded in approval as she wrapped protective tape around her hands and wrists. She clenched and unclenched her fists a few times, then did a few jumping jacks to get her blood flowing. Narrowing her eyes, she threw a quick jab at the punching bag. Nic scowled as the punch landed; the movement felt foreign and she only managed a weak effort. Though she knew she was no longer in fighting shape, realizing the limitations of her current state only irritated her. She punched the bag again, harder this time. Her shoulders throbbed but she kept going, swinging her fists without caring about speed or accuracy. For now she only wanted to retrain her body to fight, to remember what it felt like.

The music and the exertion only served to anger her more: she was able to focus on her thoughts, most of which boiled down to _My life's become complete crap._ She was safe, but for how long? She had nothing to do with her life without a Space Corps to advance in. Her career had been her ticket away from Iapetus, and she had intended to rise as high as she could. Now, her rank meant nothing and there was nothing better to look forward to. She had no other companions besides three guys who wanted to see her naked, a half-mad computer, and a laundry-obsessed service droid. Her family was dead, her friends were dead, and even if she was able to return to the solar system, would there even be anything left?

Nic felt her eyes water and swiped at them hurriedly with a taped hand. She swore that she wouldn't cry; instead she would channel her anger and use it to beat the smeg out of any simulant she would come across, ignoring the fact that she would probably shatter the bones in both of her hands before a simulant felt any pain. Her punches grew in speed and intensity as she imagined a myriad of faces on the bag, both simulant and human. First it was the simulant she had beaten with the grate, then a flight instructor from cadet school who had mocked her for being one of the only women in the class. It took her a few minutes to realize she was nearly yelling with each punch. The noise blended in with the music and the sound of her fists against the leather of the punching bag. _No one's going to walk in anyway,_ she figured, and concentrated once more on her envisioned assailant, who had morphed into a former boyfriend. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead into her eyebrows, then dripped into her eyes. Nic closed her stinging eyes and rubbed them, trying to get them to stop hurting. She stopped for a moment and used the hem of her shirt to wipe her face. Rivulets of sweat ran into the small of her back and down her legs. It was an unpleasant feeling, but it comforted Nic to be active, to spend her day doing something other than waiting to be tortured. Her lips twisted into a grim smile as she pummeled the bag, waiting for the day when she would be able to avenge her wrecked life.

-----------------

Arnold Rimmer had always disliked the phrase "get up on the wrong side of the bed." There was only one way to get out of his bunk; considering his mood that day, the one usable side was the wrong side, and he would be stuck getting up on the wrong side of the bed every day for the rest of eternity. Lister had been similarly ill-tempered that morning, and they had spent the majority of the day alternately ignoring and insulting one another. After a few hours of tension, Rimmer decided to go for a ride on a hologrammatically-generated exercise bike to blow off some steam, and had Holly change his clothing accordingly.

Lister looked up from a puzzle that he was putting together. "What do you need those for?" he asked, gesturing at Rimmer's bright yellow bicycle shorts and matching helmet. He snorted. "You're a hologram, it's not like you need these clothes."

"If you'd ever bothered to read the manual for the recently dead, I'm supposed to go on with my normal life."

"Well, since you still can't get a date and no one likes you, I'd say you're doing a pretty damn fine job," Lister retorted, trying to jam two pieces together that obviously didn't fit.

Rimmer scowled. "Don't be a gimboid. I am going to use the stationary bike, therefore I am wearing an outfit appropriate for the occasion."

"Then what's the helmet for? Unless you're planning to fall off a bike that doesn't move."

"Look, would you just leave? I'd like to get some exercise without hearing criticism from a man who's got the backside of a particularly obese whale."

"You're not the only person who lives here." Lister frowned; sometimes his fights with Rimmer sounded too juvenile, as though they were brothers sharing a room. He shuddered at the thought. After he'd recovered from the hallucination brought on by the despair squid several weeks earlier, he had nearly cried with happiness when he realized that even though he was the last human alive, at least he wasn't related to Rimmer.

"Forget it, I'm going to the gym."

"First sensible smegging thing you've said all day," Lister mumbled to himself as Rimmer left the quarters.

Rimmer could hear the muffled sound of loud rock music a hundred feet before he got to the entrance to the gym. He wrinkled his nose at the noise; surely Lister's terrible taste in music hadn't extended to the jumped-up mechanoid or the moronic feline. He preferred a lively Sousa march for his bike ride, but silence would have been preferable to the aural pollution filtering through the door to the gym. The door slid open, revealing not Cat or Kryten but Nic, who was savagely beating a punching bag. Rimmer paused for a moment to watch her: the way her shoulder blades protruded when she pulled an arm back for another strike, the way her tied-back hair swayed with her movements, the paleness of her skin against the dark bruises and cuts. He forgot about his exercise for a few moments, recalling how he'd once seen Yvonne McGruder fight, beating a catering officer senseless to win the ship championships. He smile and recalled his twelve minutes with McGruder, trying to remember the toppings he'd ordered on the pizza. He remembered it tasting especially good that night.

Breaking her concentration for a moment, Nic spotted something in her peripheral vision. She turned her head slightly to make sure it was nothing; considering what Kryten had told her about the crew, she doubted any of them would set foot in a gym. Instead of a trick of the light, it was the hologram standing in the doorway, staring at her.

"Smeg!" she yelped, taking a few steps back from the punching bag. Even over the noise, Rimmer heard her cry and jumped a little. Nic took a shaky breath and put her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beat rapidly. "Holly, could you turn the music off?" she asked. Holly didn't seem to hear her; she was too busy banging her head to the rapid drumbeat. "Off!" Nic shouted. The music ended abruptly, causing her ears to ring with the unexpected silence. "Sorry about that. I... I didn't know anyone was coming in." She was glad that her face was already flushed with exertion so the hologram wouldn't be able to see her blushing with embarrassment.

"That's all right. I just wanted to use the, er, facilities," Rimmer stammered. "Holly, bike." A hologrammatic exercise bike, marked with an H to distinguish it from the solid ones in the gym, appeared before him. He swung one spandex-clad leg over the saddle and began to pedal leisurely.

"So what do they call you?" Nic asked. She grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her forehead and neck. "I didn't really catch anyone's names the other day. Kinda forgot after all the vomiting." She flashed Rimmer a crooked half-smile and shrugged.

"It's Rimmer. Arnold Rimmer." He paused. "But everyone around here calls me Duke."

Nic smirked. "Right. Good to meet you, Duke." She walked over to his bike and stuck out her hand to shake his. He frowned and pointed to the H on his forehead. "You're a class-one hologram?"

Rimmer tried to think for a moment: he had no idea what a class-one hologram was. "Yes, of course," he replied, nodding.

"Oh, sorry about that. I thought they were obsolete. The Lynx had a few class-twos, but they were on their way out when we left. I heard the class-threes could actually eat food. Isn't that cool?" Even though Rimmer was one of the three who'd been spying on her, she found herself rambling on, happy to have someone new to speak to.

Rimmer frowned. If he'd had a stomach, it would have growled. Red Dwarf's food was abysmal on a good day, but he missed eating all the same. Hologrammatic food just didn't cut it. "I don't know anything about holograms aside from being one. And it's no smegging picnic," he admitted.

"Sorry. It's just been a while since I've gotten to speak to another person. Well, besides Kryten. Is it just me or is he really into cleaning? I mean, he pressed my underwear--"

"It's what he's programmed to do," he snapped.

A hard edge crept into Nic's voice. "Well, this is all new to me. I've never been on a ship with a mechanoid before. I really do appreciate you guys taking me aboard." Her eyes narrowed at the hologram's rudeness.

Rimmer stopped pedaling. "Do you mind? I'm trying to exercise."

"Excuse me?" He glared at her in response. "Holly, is he always like this?"

"Unfortunately," the computer replied. Nic sighed as she gathered her things and left.


	11. Friends and Enemies

**Chapter 11: Friends and Enemies**

Lister looked up from his puzzle; an unfamiliar voice was yelling in the corridor. Peeking his head out the door, he spied Nic down the hall, arguing with the vending machine.

"No, you stupid machine, I want tea. T-E-A. You know, brown liquid, made from leaves and water, you put milk and sugar in it?"

"I gave you tea, ma'am," the vending machine replied. Nic balled her hands into fists as though she would hit the machine, then dropped her hands at her sides.

"This?" she asked, picking up what it had dispensed. "This is a potato! I can't drink this!"

"I'm sorry. My voice recognition unit is malfunctioning. The skutters have been notified." Nic let out an exasperated growl.

"Need any help?" Lister asked, strolling casually toward her.

"Where's the closest vending machine that works?" she asked, putting the potato back in the machine's dispensing slot.

"This one works, you just have to know how to use it. You wanted tea?"

"Yeah. Milk, two sugars."

"Can I get two Pot Noodles, lamb flavored?" He grinned as the machine dispensed a plastic mug of tea.

"Cheers, man." Nic raised her cup to Lister and took a swig. The tea was weak despite the milk and sugar; disgusting, but the familiar taste of ship-issue tea satisfied her. "So what do you have to say to get some pizza out of that thing?"

"Don't know. I've only used it for curries and beer," Lister replied, shrugging.

Nic laughed. "So you're the one who eats nonstop vindaloos. Kryten told me about you."

"Guilty as charged. Speaking of which, I could go for one." He turned to the vending machine. "I'll have a banana split," Lister said; it dispensed a small foil container of curry. "Have you met everyone?" he asked, spearing a piece of chicken with a plastic fork.

"Everyone but the Cat, but if he's anything like our ship's cat I'll be lucky if I ever see him," she replied.

"He's got an extensive schedule of naps and meals to stick to. He usually hangs out with us, though. Plays a mean hand of poker." Lister smiled. A bit of sauce dripped from his mouth and spattered on his dingy t-shirt.

"Is that what you guys do all the time, play games?" Nic asked.

Lister shrugged. "Sometimes we'll watch a vid. We relax, have a drink, have a laugh. Skive hard, play hard."

"It doesn't get boring?"

"We salvage any derelicts we come across, so there's usually something new. We just picked up a few AR games a few weeks ago. Or we'll find something interesting, though the last time that happened we ended up having a group hallucination and almost killing ourselves."

Contemplatively, Nic sipped her tea. "Sounds great," she said sarcastically.

"It's better than it sounds, I know. Getting on Rimmer's pecks helps pass the time, too."

"Rimmer? You mean Duke?" Lister started to laugh uproariously. "What? What's going on?"

"He told you to call him Duke?" he managed to say between high-pitched giggles.

"Yeah, he said that's what everyone calls him. I... I guess that's not true?" Nic was slightly unsettled by Lister's reaction, which made her even more annoyed with Rimmer.

"His name's Rimmer. Or Smeghead, if you want to be formal."

Nic scowled. "I'll be sure to let him know."

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to cook up some kebabs tonight and me and the Cat are going to watch some vids. You should join us."

"Yeah, that'd be great!" she exclaimed, perking up.

"Come by around six. It'll be fun."

-----------------

Lister was dozing in his bunk when Rimmer entered the room, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. He muttered occasionally under his breath, cursing his bad fortune to be marooned on a spaceship with three of the most obnoxious organisms ever to exist in the universe. And not only that, but they had been joined by a fourth, and a woman at that. He swore he was cursed, or was perhaps paying a karmic debt from having been a child murderer or television executive in a past life.

"What's going on?" Lister asked sleepily, Rimmer's background noise making it impossible to sleep.

"I spoke with Nic in the gym earlier," the hologram grunted.

"So what do you think of her? I asked her if she wanted to watch a vid with us later." Lister leaned off the bunk to retrieve a can of lager from a nearby dresser.

"She wouldn't stop talking. Obnoxious woman. Holly, dress." Rimmer's workout attire switched to his regular uniform.

"Rimmer, she spent the last couple of months of her life in a prison cell. She's probably glad for the company."

He rolled his eyes. "Or barking mad."

"She's perfectly normal. I talked to her, too," Lister reasoned.

"You chew off your toenails instead of cutting them. Please tell me how that constitutes being able to judge what's normal." Rimmer crossed his arms over his chest. He did not want to be having this conversation; he wanted to be alone and spend the day looking through his collection of pictures of telegraph poles or listening to Hammond organ music, something relatively quiet and calm so he could relax and shake off his foul mood.

"Because I'm not a weird, stuck-up dork?"

"I want to see her records," Rimmer said. "I want to know what we're dealing with here."

"What does it matter?" Lister asked. "Let her get used to the ship before you go on a witch hunt."

"Just do it."

"Yes, sir," Lister said mockingly, mimicking Rimmer's elaborate salute. "Holly, do you still have the Space Corps officer database?"

"That's for the captain's eyes only," Holly replied. Rimmer narrowed his eyes at the computer. "And since he's been dead for the past three million years, I'll let you take a goosey." A dossier appeared on a wall-mounted screen. Lister hopped out of his bunk to read it as Rimmer settled into his.

"All right, let's see. Born on Iapetus, joined the Space Corps at sixteen, became an infantry captain before being offered a spot in officer training school. Educated at the Space Corps Academy on Mimas, graduated 40th in her class. Two tours on the Lynx, one on the SSS Reliance before that," Lister read aloud.

"Go figure, she's had all the smegging breaks," Rimmer grumbled.

Lister chuckled, reading a few more lines. "I doubt it. She's got a criminal record."

Rimmer sat up suddenly. "She's a criminal? You brought a smegging criminal aboard this ship?"

"Hold up." Lister scanned the readout. "Public drunkenness, disturbing the peace, fighting... grand theft auto!" Rimmer looked at him, aghast. "She and a few friends stole a Starbug out of an unlocked Jupiter Mining Corporation garage and went joyriding. They crashed it and got arrested."

"Oh, great, and now she's going to beat us half to death and run off with all our valuables." Lister rolled his eyes and skipped to the next page in Nic's file. He read silently for a few moments, then laughed. "What? Has she also been convicted of murder?"

"No. It's just..."

"What?" Rimmer barked, annoyed. He wanted to know whether he'd be in mortal danger, though from the look of the girl he'd be surprised if she managed to take a swing at them before collapsing from exhaustion.

"She was a kid when she did all this! Check out this mugshot!" The text of Nic's file vanished and was replaced with the picture of a surly young space punk, about fifteen years old. Young Nic scowled at the camera, defiant even after being caught. She had several piercings in her heavily made-up face, though her cosmetics failed to cover up a black eye and split lip. Her hair was the polar opposite of the severe style from her ID photo; here she had a wild teased coif, shaved around the sides of her head, dyed bright green and blue.

Rimmer stared at the photograph for a few moments. "She looks familiar. I'm pretty sure she tried to steal my wallet once."

"Doubtful. The Lynx was after our time. Chronologically she's about fifteen years younger than us." Lister closed the picture and went back to reading Nic's criminal file.

"I know. I caught a little girl trying to pick my pocket on planet leave on Iapetus," Rimmer groused.

Lister tried to suppress a laugh. "That'd only happen to you, Rimmer."

Rimmer thought for a moment. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite tell what it was. "I don't like this. I don't like _her_," he decided.

"Come on. Keeping in mind she's spent most of her time on the ship being sick or sleeping, what has she done to you? She doesn't seem like the type to boss you around, even though you'll do anything she says since you have this compulsion to be accepted by your superiors."

"You allowed a psychotic career criminal from the smeggiest moon in the solar system on the ship! She outranks us all. If she did order us around, we couldn't do anything about it."

"Except not listen to her. When's the last time I followed _your_ orders? Rimmer, read the file. She hasn't broken the law in over ten years. She got out of there and made something of herself." Lister paused for a few moments. "So that's why you don't like her. She succeeded where you failed."

Rimmer opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, trying to think of a retort, then stormed out of the room.


	12. Once More, With Feeling

**Chapter 12: Once More, With Feeling**

"This one's my speciality: shami kebabs diablo." Lister said, setting plates in front of Nic, Cat, and himself, each one containing a kebab and some lettuce and tomato. Cat produced a large, gaudily-patterned silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and tucked it into the collar of his shirt like a bib. "Dig in."

Nic cut herself a large slice of kebab and chewed it. "Not bad. Lots of chili in here..."

"A _lot_ of chili pepper," Cat concurred, his eyes starting to water.

She paused eating for a moment. "Dear Lord, this is spicy!" Nic reached for her can of Leopard Lager and took a few large swigs.

"Really? Nic, you told me you didn't like your food too spicy, so I made it milder," Lister remarked. He shrugged and continued to eat his food.

"This is _mild?!_" Cat exclaimed, throwing his fork down. "Little bit of advice for next time, buddy: don't make these spicy or they'll eat right through the plate."

Nic coughed a few times, then ate a few pieces of lettuce from her plate to try to stop her mouth from burning. However, instead of the vegetables cooling the pain, it got worse. "Is there hot sauce on this lettuce?" she sputtered.

"What?" Lister asked defensively. "I don't like raw vegetables, so I whipped up a curry dressing for them."

"How do you eat like this? I think I'm going blind!" Nic waved a hand in front of her eyes, which were bleary, then took a few more gulps of beer.

"Yeah, that happens. It'll pass in a few seconds."

"Someone call an ambulance," the Cat groaned. "I'm dying!"

"Some thanks this is! I said I was making this, you two said you wanted to try it, and now you're complaining worse than Rimmer." Lister shook his head.

Nic threw her napkin on the table, covering the food. "I'm done. Thank you, Lister, for letting me know that there are things in the universe more painful than torture." She grinned. "Now, do you have any extra-strength Pepto Bismol? I have a feeling my stomach is going to set off the Richter scale tonight."

"Philistines, the lot of you. It just means more food for me. So which movie should we watch? _Revenge of the Surfboarding Killer Bikini Vampire Girls_ or _Die Screaming with Sharp Things in Your Head_?" Lister rummaged around on a shelf and produced the two vids, holding them up with an expectant grin. Cat and Nic glanced at each other, their expressions pained.

-----------------

"I'm glad we picked _Psycho._ It's so rare to see a scary movie that's not terrible," Nic said, picking idly at a bowl of half-eaten popcorn. She sat in Rimmer's bunk, watching a small television that Lister had placed on the table. "You guys want any more?" she asked, passing the bowl to Cat and Lister, who sat in the top bunk.

"And you only had to threaten him twice before he agreed," Cat chimed in.

"I still think _Revenge of the Surfboarding Killer Bikini Vampire Girls_ was better," Lister countered.

"Why's that?" Cat asked.

"More nude scenes," Nic replied.

"No, no, it was purely on the strength of the actresses' performances."

"And not due to the twenty-minute scene where the surfboarding killer bikini vampire girls kidnap the men from the beach party and suck their blood, but according to their vampire tradition, they have to do it topless?" Nic leaned out from the bunk in order to give Lister a skeptical look.

"That may have had some part in it," he admitted.

"And we're watching _this _movie instead?" Cat exclaimed.

"We'll watch _Revenge of the Surfboarding Killer Bikini Vampire Girls_ on our own time, Cat," Lister amended.

With a mechanical hum, the door to the sleeping quarters slid open. Rimmer entered the room, looking perturbed to see not only the usual two suspects crowding his living space, but the woman he had quarreled with earlier. She looked at him briefly, then turned back to the movie without registering or acknowledging the hologram's presence. _Like every other smegging woman I've ever met_, Rimmer thought bitterly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice full of venom.

"What does it look like?" Lister responded. "We're ritually sacrificing a cow."

"Go away, smeghead. We're trying to watch a movie," Cat added.

The hologram strode briskly across the room, blocking the television from the three spectators, who immediately started in with groans of complaint. "Get up," Rimmer growled at Nic.

Nic raised her eyebrows, incredulous at the hologram's ire. "Good evening to you, too."

"Get out of my bunk."

"Can you give me five minutes? I just want to see the end of this. It's almost over." She waved at him to move out of her way.

"No, I will not 'give you five minutes,'" he said, mocking her. "This is my bunk and I intend to use it."

"So I'll move over, you can sit next to me. I just want to watch the end of this movie. I'll just be a few minutes, what's the rush?"

"I don't need to explain myself to the likes of you. Get the smeg out of my bed."

"Only Goalpost Head would be trying to get a girl _out_ of his bed!" Cat howled with laughter, then high-fived Lister.

"Two minutes," Nic bargained, her voice quiet and calm. "Come on."

Rimmer narrowed his eyes at her, his anger barely in check. His nostrils flared. "No, _now_."

"What is your problem? You can't be nice for five minutes?" She scoffed. "No wonder no one likes you." Nic leaned out of the bunk and looked up at Lister and Cat. "Am I being unreasonable here?"

"I'm not getting into this," Lister replied, putting his hands up as though surrendering. "This is between you two." The Cat started to speak, presumably defending the squishy crew member from the one he thought was a complete moron, but a murderous glare from Rimmer stopped his tongue.

"I'm tired of arguing. Get out of my smegging bunk, you stupid woman."

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf? Get. Out. Of. My. Smegging. Bunk," Rimmer repeated loudly and slowly.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that." Nic got to her feet and stood close to Rimmer, her face inches from his. The effect of her belligerent gesture was somewhat lessened by the impossibility of a physical confrontation. Lister and Cat looked at each other quickly, both wondering if the conversation was heading where they thought it was heading. Of course, both would readily admit that they'd love to see Rimmer get his just desserts, especially from a woman half a foot shorter than him.

Rimmer, for once, was not scared; she could never strike him, though if he had a body he would have been halfway to the diesel decks to cower under a large piece of machinery. "And what are you going to do? Beat me up? Steal my light bee? We should have left you to rot in space like the trash you are," he spat.

"I'm not going to fight you. That is, unless you want me to. Just point me in the direction of the nearest holo-whip and we'll settle this real quick." Nic remained calm, though there was a look in her eyes that said that Rimmer was very close to crossing a line. He saw this and, without hesitation, proceeded to cross it.

"Of course you'd want to do that. You're a common criminal. A disgusting blight on society. The others don't see it, but I certainly do. I wouldn't even turn my back on you, in case you decide to rob us all blind. I wasn't aware that the Space Corps was letting convicted felons into their ranks. How did that one happen? Extortion? Did you hold your commanding officer's car ransom? Or did you just put a gun to his head?"

"I worked hard and passed my exams, which seems to be a bit more than you can manage. Holly told me. Thirteen times not enough to manage a simple astronavigation exam?" Nic asked, her voice deadly quiet. But there was also a slight quiver in her voice; Rimmer had hit a weak spot.

"Clearly the Space Corps has an integrity problem here. One Arnold Rimmer, who has never so much as stolen a piece of candy, becomes an honest second technician. And you? I don't trust you for a nanosecond. I don't even believe this simulant business. I bet you're some sort of escaped convict, you disgusting piece of human wreckage. You're a low-life piece of criminal smeg from the smeggiest backwater hole in the solar system. I'd rather share my bunk with a heap of putrefied dung. Go back to the slimy gutter you crawled out from."

"And yet I still outrank you," Nic snarled. She stormed out of the room, walking directly through Rimmer as though he wasn't even there. The hologram's image dimmed briefly as she passed.

"The nerve!" she heard Rimmer yell before the doors closed. She felt her eyes moisten with tears and her chest constrict with a sob that she tried not to release. The walk to her quarters now seemed interminable; she had to walk quickly so she could hold in her crying until her door was closed and locked behind her. As she sped her way down the corridor, Kryten passed her. Nic immediately put her head down and tried to control her breathing. The last thing she wanted was for the mechanoid to go into mothering mode. He passed by her without a word.

As the door to her quarters closed, Nic slid to the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her chest heaved with ragged, hysterical sobs. Her past was a constant source of shame, and she had spent so much time trying to hide it and be a good person. Nic was so committed to keeping a strict code of ethics that she had never even taken an extra break or sneaked some food from the mess after hours. Being remotely threatening to Rimmer by getting in his face, even though her threat of violence was empty, was a sign of her past that she wanted to erase. He had brought up her past and she, almost immediately, was ready to fight him as she would have at age fifteen. She had managed to keep her temper in check for a few minutes, but it still got the best of her. The realization made her cry harder.

Every problem in her life seemed to bleed together: the fight with Rimmer, a past that she had worked so hard to overcome, the months on the Lynx, being one of the last humans alive, never being able to see her family again. _And through it all, my smegging shoulder still hurts,_ she thought bitterly. The thought reminded her of a plethora of minor issues and brought on a new round of tears. Nic climbed into her bed, wrapping the blanket around her like a fleece cocoon. She felt spent from the argument and the crying, her still-teary eyes heavy. With a sad sigh she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----------------

"What's going on? I passed by Miss Nic in the hall. She seemed quite upset," Kryten said, surveying the scene. Cat and Lister still seemed to be in shock over what had happened.

"Rimmer decided to be an all-star, first-class arsehole to her because he couldn't wait five minutes to lay down," Lister replied. He glared at his roommate, who lounged in his bunk, a smug smile on his face.

"It serves her right. This is my bunk, and as acting senior officer--"

"Sir, you are no longer the most senior officer on this ship," Kryten reminded him.

"Not unless they hand out ranks according to who looks the worst!" the Cat exclaimed.

Rimmer rolled his eyes, ignoring the remarks. "Kryten, the next time I want to discuss Space Corps ranks with an appliance, I'll talk to the microwave. Shut your flat head. And you," he said, addressing the Cat, "I won't dignify that with a response."

A sympathetic look crossed Cat's face. "Don't worry. You'll become an officer someday."

"And how would you know anything about that, you gimboid?"

"Maybe the Dork Convention will give you a medal for lifetime achievement." He and Lister laughed uproariously.

Kryten muttered under his breath. "What a smeeeee. What a smeeeee heeeeee! No wonder Miss Nic was in tears."

"Whoa whoa, hold up a second. Tears?" Lister asked incredulously.

"Indeed. He must have said something extremely hurtful," Kryten confirmed. Rimmer's complacent look faded.

Lister sighed. "Congratulations, Rimmer. You made a girl cry."


	13. Prelude to AR

**Chapter 13: Prelude to AR**

After nearly a week on Red Dwarf, Nic thought she was losing her mind. After fighting with Rimmer, she felt as though her brain had gone blank. She kept trying to think about her situation rationally, but the one-two punch of having escaped certain death on the Lynx and having been in stasis for three million years was just too much to handle. She had to admit that she had, in a sick way, gotten used to the torture and had quietly accepted that her death was imminent. At least on the Lynx, she knew what was going to happen at what time, owing to the simulants' love of schedules. Now, not only had she not died, but she had been revived millions of years later - an unthinkable amount of time by any stretch of the imagination - on an unfamiliar ship with an unfamiliar crew. And, not only that, but she'd already managed to butt heads with one-fourth of the people who had retrieved her stasis pod. _That's a seventy-five percent success rate, _she thought. _But seventy-five isn't enough. _Everything felt strange and uncertain. She spent two days after the argument rarely leaving her room, speaking little, and avoiding everyone on the ship. Kryten, not wanting to confront an emotional female crew member, left her meals outside her door and collected the empty dishes when she was finished.

Lister, at least, had tried to reason with her. He knocked on the door to her quarters, brought her a Crunchie bar as a peace offering, and dragged Rimmer's name through the mud in an attempt to get her to spend more time with the crew. Nic conducted the conversation through the closed door, too wounded even to speak face-to-face. She tried to explain that she was overwhelmed by the gravity of her situation but, instead, could only spout platitudes like "I'm just so confused" and "I really need some time to myself."

"Why do I feel like you're breaking up with me?" Lister asked when she was done her speech. Even Nic had to laugh at that. "Just… don't hide in there forever on account of Rimmer."

Nic wanted to explain that she wasn't hiding, or at least she didn't feel like she was hiding. Staying in her room reminded her of better times, of studying diligently for exams in cadet school, of solitude and tranquility and peace. On Iapetus, her family had inhabited a series of dingy apartments with thin walls. She had learned to fall asleep to the noise of arguments, screams, and, occasionally, gunfire. The dead quiet of the Space Corps barracks after lights out had initially unnerved her, but soon became a symbol of her rebirth in the Corps. Having time to be alone in silence was a luxury that she treasured more dearly than any paycheck.

But even Nic at her most hermetic couldn't escape cabin fever. A few hours after her conversation with Lister, she was itching to get out. She crept toward Lister and Rimmer's room, hoping that the hologram was off doing whatever horrid people did between bouts of making other people miserable. From the corridor she could hear someone playing the guitar, though every note seemed to be bent in three places. Soon after, the terrible music was joined by caterwauling so off-key that Nic wasn't sure that the singer was even familiar with the concept of keys.

"You are purposely doing this to annoy me!" she heard Rimmer yell. Her face fell; human contact would have to wait for another time. She stayed outside the door, eavesdropping, in case Lister dropped any juicy tidbits about Rimmer that Nic could use at another time. The soldier in her was already trying to formulate some sort of tactic for an inevitable second meeting with the hologram.

"Yeah, so what if I am?" came Lister's reply.

"This is because of that… that _woman_, isn't it?" Nic perked up to hear herself mentioned.

"Just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Maybe you should see what it's like to feel unwelcome on the ship."

"She _isn't_ welcome here. Not to me, anyway. After she left, I made sure to have the Skutters count the money in my piggy bank. Lucky for the both of you, nothing was missing."

"And what if it was? What's she going to do with it, buy a car?"

"Once a criminal, always a criminal."

"Yeah, she's a real hardened felon, so used to a life of crime that when a man twice her size yells in her face, she runs away and cries. You're a real hero, Ace."

"If it keeps us alive and my possessions intact, so be it."

"Don't you realize what she's been through? I was going through some of the old post pods earlier in the drive room and there's an old news vid about a simulant attack on a mining ship. And do you know what they did? They dissected the captain alive and forced the whole crew to watch."

"Ugh."

"I looked it up: everyone on the Lynx was presumed dead. The Space Corps never recovered the ship. They probably did things to Nic and her shipmates that we can't even imagine, and you decide to get her upset over your naptime. Seriously top-notch work. You've managed to out-smeg yourself."

"So what do you want me to do, since I've obviously committed a bigger faux pas than serving pork chops at the annual Titan Rabbi's Luncheon?"

"Apologize."

Rimmer paused for a moment, seemingly considering this proposition. "Absolutely no-ski."

Nic had had enough; she needed a distraction. Post pods in the drive room meant packages and, if Red Dwarf was anything like the Lynx, new AR games. Spending a few hours shooting aliens would calm her enough to face Rimmer and the rest of the crew.

Sifting through the massive stack of mail was a feat unto itself. It seemed as though pods kept arriving on Red Dwarf for years after the accident, owing to the efficiency of Interstellar Mail. Stacks of letters and packages were piled on the main scanner table, and even more had fallen to the floor around it. It would take days just to get through the thousands of letters, let alone the boxes full of care packages and junk, to get to anything worthwhile.

"Anything good in here, Holly?"

"Captain Hollister's mum sent him some chocolates, but I think they've evolved in the past three million years. Last I checked, one of them nailed 95 theses about the meaning of being candy onto the side of the box."

"Nah, I don't think I could eat any sort of living chocolate, Lutheran or not. Any games? Vids? Books?"

"Lister made his way through some of the vids on that console over there," Holly replied, tilting her head to the right. Nic looked at the pile of discs that Lister had pulled from the giant mess; it was mostly Zero-G Football compilations, newsreels, and trashy gore movies. She noticed three sequels to _Revenge of the Killer Bikini Vampire Girls_, each movie promising more gore and more nudity than its predecessor.

"You didn't see anything," she said to Holly with a conspiratorial wink as she tossed the three vids under the scanner table. Nic then turned her attention to the massive pile on the table, sifting through mail addressed to people long dead. Beneath a thick covering of letters lay a box marked "Total Immersion Video Games."

"Jackpot!" Nic exclaimed, tearing the box open. Two games fell out: _Extreme Gardening Simulation_ and _Grand Theft Auto: Iapetus_. Nic turned toward Holly, holding up the Grand Theft Auto game. "Is this a joke?"

"Not a joke… no, what's that word?" Holly furrowed her brow, searching her data banks to try to finish her thought. "Coordinate. It's a coordinate. No, that doesn't sound right. What's like a coordinate, but means things that happen by chance?"

"A coincidence."

"Yeah, that."

She chuckled at the computer's senility, then loaded the game on a nearby console. "Glad to help, Holly. Key me in."

Nic didn't realize that what she missed most about Iapetus was the rain. Upon entering the game, she took a little while to stroll the familiar streets, then decided to sit back and take in the sights and sounds of her home. She sat on the roof of a high-rise apartment building, looking down on the city below. The rain spattered in puddles on the roof, drenching Nic and soaking her clothes through. It rained often on Iapetus; she could never remember the exact reason, but it was something about terraforming gone awry, too much something-or-other in the atmosphere when the fledgling Space Corps had initially made it habitable. It made for a gloomy, wet moon, especially on its dark side, but the familiar weather comforted her. Gunfire rang out in the distance, followed by the shrill scream of a siren. She smiled.


	14. Interlude in AR

This chapter's pretty long - we're nearing the end of the first part of the story. In a few chapters, we'll start off AU season 6 with a new version of Psirens. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Interlude in AR**

Rimmer felt guilty. It was an unfamiliar and, frankly, unwelcome sensation; he had enough on his plate without having to deal with offending others. But Lister had made it clear in no uncertain terms that he would cook Rimmer's light bee and eat it with an extra-hot mutton vindaloo if he didn't start being nicer to the new arrival. Rimmer tried to forget the last time the Scouse git had swallowed his light bee; he had been saved from being totally digested when Lister's stomach, unhappy with the combination of hardware and beer, rebelled. He did not want to know what lurked beyond the parts of Lister's insides that he had already seen, so it looked like he would have to apologize.

Lister's threat was actually a blessing in disguise. When Kryten had notified everyone that Nic was in tears, Rimmer's heart - or at least the electronic simulation of Rimmer's heart - sank. He was used to the other Dwarfers taking his verbal abuse and returning it, but he'd never really been able to wound any of them. Nic was a different case entirely; she had been unwilling to verbally spar with him, and took his insults very seriously. He had not doubted that she wanted to injure him. Rimmer had seen that look on people right before bar brawls broke out and he ran away. The woman was dangerous, certainly, but only after she had been pushed. He'd put himself in danger needlessly.

Rimmer thought back to when he shared a room with himself. The other Rimmer had said such disgustingly hateful things that he'd nearly cried in front of Lister and, worst of all, told the gazpacho soup story, detailing the most humiliating event in his life. Her criminal record was his gazpacho soup, the symbol of their deepest neuroses. But there was a difference: his memory was the place where he could pinpoint the futility of his quest to be an officer; hers was the lowest point in her life, and she had spent the next ten years rising above it.

Lister was right: he _was_ a little bitter.

Still, she was going to be around for the foreseeable future and he really wasn't looking forward to passing through Lister's small intestine, joined by curry sauce and bits of liquefied mutton. He had to suck it up and apologize.

"Holly, where's Nic?" Rimmer asked.

"Hooked up to the AR console."

"What's she playing? It's not Better Than Life, is it?" He'd have to wait to apologize if she was playing that particular game. He doubted she'd like to finish her game buried up to her neck in sand with jam smeared on her face. Even after a few more tries on Better Than Life, Rimmer still wound up in the same position. His brain just couldn't cope with the idea of good things happening to him.

"No, it's not. It's one of the ones that came in with the last post pod. One of the Grand Theft Auto games."

Rimmer rolled his eyes. "Reliving her glory days, I'm sure. Patch me in."

His vision went black, then was replaced with the game's entrance screen. "Grand Theft Auto" flashed white over the projection of a city. Underneath the title, a computer sprite of a young man ran up and spraypainted "Iapetus" in crooked letters. As the title screen faded, Rimmer found himself deposited on a dim city street, devoid of life save for a lone haggard streetwalker. His red uniform was gone, having been replaced by a leather jacket, stained t-shirt, and torn jeans. He was surrounded by tall brick buildings dotted with broken windows. Cool rain poured down on him from a brown-gray sky, flattening his hair to his head. He scowled at the feeling of the water soaking his clothes, which stuck to him and dripped cold water onto his skin.

"Why am I in Lister's formalwear?" Rimmer muttered as he looked down at himself. He groaned as the prostitute spotted him and staggered toward him.

"Hey, sailor," she said in a gravelly voice. As she got closer, his nostrils flared and his eyes watered as he was assaulted with the stench of sweat, liquor, and cheap cigarettes. _Lister's brand, if I'm not mistaken_, he thought.

"Go away," he replied, shooing her. The prostitute stuck out her hand in such a way that Rimmer was unsure if she wanted him to hold her hand or put money in it. He decided on the latter. "I'm dead smegging broke," he said slowly, then sighed with relief as the woman spat at his feet and shambled away.

With the hooker gone, Rimmer could concentrate on what he had entered the game to do. "Locate player one," he commanded. A map appeared in mid-air, a red dot indicating Nic's position. Squaring his shoulders, he started navigating the filthy streets of Iapetus.

After half an hour, he had gotten hopelessly lost in the city's maze-like streets and narrow, twisting alleys. Several times he had stumbled upon groups of toughs loitering on corners, all of whom followed him as he passed. Since he could not find a weapon or a cheat code to obtain one (preferably a rocket-propelled grenade launcher), he ran away each time.

"Map," he groaned, summoning the graphic once more. He scowled for the few seconds it took to load, worried that his cowardice had landed him miles out of his way. The red dot denoting Nic's location pulsed cheerily in front of his face; he had had the good luck to run towards her location. A flash of lightning lit up the sky. Rimmer looked up to see another lightning strike, which illuminated what looked like a pair of legs dangling from the roof of a nearby building. Rimmer consulted the map; Nic was in that building. He ran toward her location, knocking open the door of the building with both hands and leaping up the steps two at a time. By the fourth floor, he started to pant heavily. By the fifth, he figured it would be faster to leave the stairwell and take the elevator. Rimmer tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator to arrive. He noticed that he seemed to be in an apartment building and, like all apartment buildings, this one was equipped with an interminably slow elevator. He eventually got off at the top floor and ran up another flight of stairs marked "Roof Access." The door to the roof was slightly stuck, so he slammed into it with his shoulder until the hinges creaked and it swung open. He saw Nic still seated at the edge of the roof and ran toward her.

"Don't do it!" Rimmer shouted.

Nic swung her legs back onto the roof, startled, and stood up. She frowned when she saw who had barged in on her game. _Anyone but Rimmer, _she thought._ I'd be happier to see a smegging simulant. _"Have you lost your mind? What are you talking about?"

Rimmer paused for a moment; perhaps he had been mistaken. His thoughts began to race as the silence stretched out longer and longer. After a few moments where Nic glared at him, her gaze full of contempt, he managed to speak. "I... I thought you were going to jump."

She scoffed. "It's an AR game. If I fall off, I'll just rematerialize up here. And what do you care, anyway? You never wanted me here in the first place; you said so yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to spend some time in the hole that I crawled out of." The hologram did not reply, so Nic decided to clarify her position. "Go away." She turned her back to him and went back to her perch ten stories above the grim city. To her surprise, Rimmer sat down next to her. Nic stared at the street below, hoping that Rimmer would take the hint and leave. She heard him mumble something under his breath; she turned and looked at him, one eyebrow cocked.

"Did you say something?" Nic asked.

"No."

"Oh." She went back to watching the street; a scuffle seemed to be breaking out.

He scowled. "Yes, I did say something." Nic turned her head to look at him. Rimmer stared off into the distance, purposely avoiding her gaze.

"Yeah?"

"I'msorry," he mumbled again.

"What?"

He turned to face her. "I'm sorry."

"_What?_"

"I'M-" he bellowed.

"I heard you! I'm just confused." She furrowed her brow. "Why are you apologizing?"

Rimmer paused, trying to figure out a polite way to express himself. Failing that, he went with his original thought. "I felt bad making a girl cry. Lister doesn't seem to care when I say something nasty. Not that I'd really mind if he did. But... you know. Girl. Crying. It's weird."

"That's probably the closest thing to an apology I'm going to get out of you, isn't it?" Nic laughed bitterly.

"Probably." Rimmer cracked a timid smile.

She shrugged. "Eh, I'll take what I can get." She stuck out her hand for him to shake. "Maybe we should start fresh. Hi, my name's Nic Hawkins. I used to be an officer in the Space Corps."

"Arnold Rimmer, professional smeghead. Nice to meet you." He shook her hand.

"You were kind of a smeghead the other day. I was starting to like you before you were rude to me in the gym, and then that whole bunk thing..."

He furrowed his brow. "Why did you get so angry?"

"Besides the fact that you screamed at me without provocation, called me stupid, and apparently hacked into my personnel folder and found out about my record?"

"Apart from those things, yes."

Nic thought for a moment, torn between not wanting to open up to a virtual stranger and wanting to be honest. She chose the latter. "I don't like people bringing up my past. I've spent the last ten years of my life trying to be someone better than the kid who swiped wallets and stole cars. Yeah, I used to be a criminal, but what the smeg else was I supposed to do here?" She made a grand sweeping gesture with one arm, the motion only serving to underscore the filth and decay of Iapetus. As though on command, more gunshots boomed below them.

"Iapetus: worst moon of Saturn. That's the motto here, isn't it? It's a smegging hellhole, a den full of thieves and prostitutes and people who would happily skin you alive for your wallet. And that's in the posh areas."

She sighed contemplatively. "Yeah, I'm from the bad part of Iapetus." She started to say more but was drowned out by the piercing wail of an ambulance's siren and went quiet. Rimmer stuck his neck out, trying to make out what was going on below.

"It looks like some kids are mugging an old lady!"

"Yeah, that's home," she said dreamily. "When I first joined the Corps, I couldn't wait to come back. But by the time I'd earned my first leave, I'd been away long enough to realize what a horrible place it is. Still, it's where I'm from. Iapetus made me who I am."

"I've never met a Iapetian who wasn't a low-life bloodthirsty criminal. I roomed with one when I first joined the Space Corps. He made Lister look like Noel smegging Coward." Nic looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Er, except you."

She laughed. "I could easily have turned out like that, you know. Stealing people's wallets isn't far off from stealing cars or mugging people, and a mugging gone wrong can end up in murder. I stole a fair few wallets in my time, too. Never got up the courage to actually mug someone, though. Pickpocketing was more my style; I didn't have to think about the people I was taking things from."

"I've been to Iapetus twice, both times on planet leave. The first time, an old woman mugged me and stole all the money I'd been saving. And that happened after I caught a little girl trying to steal my wallet. The second time, I left all my valuables back on Red Dwarf. I just took the essentials with me. And you know what happened?"

"What?"

"Some smeghead stole my clothes when I was asleep in my room at the hotel. I had to go back to the ship wearing a shower curtain."

Nic tried to hide a grin. "I don't mean to laugh at you, but, well, it's a funny story."

"You don't steal things anymore, right?"

"No, but I still know how. It's a good party trick." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a brown leather wallet. Rimmer patted his pockets, alarmed that the familiar bulge of his wallet was missing. Without a word, she held up the wallet and opened it, revealing Rimmer's Space Corps ID badge, then handed it back to him.

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I need to get Lister back. Any other delinquent tricks?" he asked, putting his wallet back in his pocket.

"Not really. I don't really have it in me anymore to be a criminal. I'd be pretty good at it now, though: two years of Space Corps combat training under my belt, and one of advanced martial arts. I learned how to incapacitate and kill men twice my size with my bare hands." Rimmer blanched. "Don't worry, I've only had to use it once."

"Dear Lord, you've killed someone?"

Nic scoffed and pushed Rimmer lightly on the shoulder; he was briefly alarmed at the familiar gesture. "Don't be silly. One of the privates in my platoon was drunk on patrol and started getting belligerent. I knew he didn't like me, most twenty-something privates got tetchy knowing that they had to follow orders from a nineteen-year-old girl. He tried to fight me, so I knocked him out and dragged him to the general's office."

"I always fancied myself a military man. I always wanted to sit on a hillside in a white tent, directing a battle. Be a decorated general, a man of honor." He closed his eyes briefly and smiled, conjuring one of his many military fantasies.

"So you wanted to sit on your ass while us grunts fought and died, huh?" The reverie was immediately broken and Rimmer looked at Nic, imagining her and hundreds of others in matching filthy uniforms, their faces streaked with blood and dirt. Surely that was just collateral damage in the fight for glory?

"Essentially. I'm not a very good fighter and possibly a bit of a coward." He realized what he had said, then tried to amend it. "Uh, but only in the most desperate, vicious, life-or-death situations. We all have our moments of weakness."

"Right. Maybe it's for the best you ended up as a tech. The other privates would have murdered you in about ten seconds with that attitude," Nic replied, skeptical about Rimmer's assessment of his bravery. "If someone in the platoon chickened out at the last minute, people wouldn't forget it. Usually the rest of the group would get together and beat the smeg out of him after lights out."

"And your superior officers didn't say anything?" Rimmer asked, astounded.

"Of course not. We were working together as a unit to defeat a common enemy. The common enemy just happened to be someone else in the unit. They loved it."

"I never wanted to fight. I joined the Space Corps to become an officer and a gentleman, someone of importance. I ended up making sure the vending machines didn't run out of choccies and novelty condoms. It's not exactly the most glorious job." Rimmer's voice went from mournful to bitter. Nic realized that, despite the fact that he had targeted her big weakness, he had one of his own. Normally she would go after this, but Rimmer clearly felt bad enough about his career trajectory without her help.

"I'm sure that's a vital duty. I mean, people need candy and hilarious prophylactics, right?" Nic attempted to lighten the mood with a glib comment and a crooked smile, but Rimmer didn't notice it. He stared intently at the street below, unable to meet her eyes.

"I was about as useful as an air freshener in Lister's sock drawer. No matter how hard I worked, it just didn't matter." He shook his head sadly. "I had a few family members who'd risen to the highest ranks in the Space Corps; I just wanted to be one of them. I wanted my own ship, my own crew. I wanted people to say, 'That Arnie, what a great guy he is. What a brilliant officer.' Not, 'That Rimmer, he's a complete smeghead.""

Nic put her hand on his shoulder; startled, Rimmer looked at her. "Do you know why I joined up?"

"Good health insurance and five weeks paid vacation each year?"

"Since you already hacked into my personnel file, you know I got arrested. Went to trial and everything. The judge offered me a choice: three years in prison or three years in the Space Corps. I chose the Corps."

"With that hair?" Rimmer snorted, recalling the blue and green monstrosity from her mugshot.

"They shaved my head when I joined. I cried for weeks." Nic gave her bitter laugh again. Rimmer noticed that the expression was familiar to her; she must have had to laugh a lot of terrible things off in order to keep going with her life. "I do miss that hair, but having money and three hot meals a day was even better. I went home on my first planet leave and I realized how miserable it was there. My friends were all criminals; a few were in jail, and a few were dead. My mom and my brother were working themselves to death just to make ends meet. I wanted something else, so I worked as hard as I could so that when my three years were up, I was offered a spot in the academy for officer training. I passed my exams, got my third-class certification, and I've been working for the JMC since then. I was going to work my way up the ranks; I was a few days away from taking the next science officer exam when the simulants came. I was trying to make something of myself, and now… now I have nothing." Nic's voice wavered slightly on the word "nothing." She took in and let out a shaky breath. "Smeg," she muttered under her breath.

Rimmer was silent for a few moments, sympathizing with her frustration. "At least you had something. Twelve years in the Space Corps and all I have to show for it are a few long service medals and a notebook full of complaints against Lister. And now I'm dead."

She shook her head. "What does it matter? It's all gone now. There's no Space Corps to tell you what to do; you could call yourself Rear Admiral Rimmer and no one would say anything."

"I'd just be kidding myself. I'm not rear admiral material. You got a small taste of success. My brothers all became high-flyers in the Space Corps and I was outranked by the Skutters, even the broken ones. My father was an insane dictator from hell who pushed us all until we nearly lost our minds. He'd quiz us on astronavigation at the dinner table, and you got your food when you got questions right. I nearly starved to death. And despite my mother sleeping with every teacher, tutor, and headmaster, I never got a break and almost failed a few times in school. I ended up divorcing my parents."

"Lucky you."

"Are you mad?"

"I've never met my father. I'm not sure my mom even knows who he is. And she was too busy trying to pay rent and not starve to care about where I was or what I was doing."

"...Oh."

"If we're going to try to one-up each other with terrible stories, I think I win for pure patheticness."

"I have some pretty terrible stories. Those are just the Cliffs Notes versions."

"With my mom, she didn't care what I did as long as I didn't end up pregnant, arrested, or dead, and I couldn't even manage that. At least your parents cared enough to want to do something for you. In their weird, terrible way, they wanted you to do well. Sure, they tortured you in the process, but if they really disliked you then they wouldn't have sent you to school." Nic shook her head.

Rimmer scowled at the thought of his education, though he hesitated even to call it that. "Io House barely counts as school. My father just wanted my brothers and me to succeed where he failed. He didn't care what we wanted in life; there was really no choice but to join the Space Corps since he'd been rejected. He bought a rack to stretch us with so we wouldn't be disqualified for being under regulation height. I was the tallest six-year-old in the class by a good eight inches."

Nic chuckled. "They did away with that rule by the time I joined up. Too many angry short men with lawyers. Did you ever want to do anything besides the Corps? Your father wanted you to join, but you said you wanted to be a military man too. Whose dream was it, really? Yours or his?"

"I don't even know anymore. I'd never given thought to any other career. Maybe it's a combination. I've taken the astronavigation exam thirteen times. Thirteen. One three. Failed every single time, except for that time I had my spasm. I must have been insane; after three or five or even nine attempts, I should have figured out that I was never going to pass."

"You know, there are other things out there than being a navigation officer. I went into science. You could even go into catering or medicine or be a tech officer and work on the engines."

"Look at every great captain - they all started off as navigation officers. Even that fat git Hollister was better at astronavigation than me. And he's probably still better at it, even though he's been dead for three million years."

"There are plenty of captains who started off elsewhere. When I joined up, a lot of people were coming straight out of the military. And if you're good enough at something, you'll make a name for yourself. Or, well, you would have. I guess you can make a name for yourself considering the only people around are on this ship, and we all know who you are."

"Great, my claim to fame is being a widely-disliked smeghead who shares a bunk with a man who dips his Sugar Puff sandwiches in curry sauce," Rimmer groaned.

"Yeah, I'm not really good at consoling people. Sorry."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. "So is Iapetus really like this all the time? With the rain and the gloom and the horrific crime?"

"Not always. Sometimes you can see the sun reflecting off Saturn, so the sky is a lighter gray. And it only rains, like, seventy to eighty percent of the time."

"And you only stole things? Remarkable. A week here and I'd be running amok on a vicious killing spree."

"It wouldn't be the first time that happened. Psychologists started calling it Iapetus Syndrome. I had to beg my commanding officer to take my leaves here. Most Corps members have to go through counseling after staying for two weeks."

"Dear Lord."

Suddenly, Holly's face appeared in the night sky. In the street below, people shrieked at the strange apparition. A few panicked and ran away; more intrepid virtual citizens shot off a few rounds from various firearms at her.

"Hew terribly rude!" Holly said. "Listen, sorry to break up your game, but the Cat thinks he's found an alien lifeform aboard. I keep trying to tell him it's another of Lister's socks, but he wants everyone to check it out."

"Will do, Holly. Be there soon," Rimmer said. He and Nic got up; without her, he started to walk toward a save point.

"Hey Rimmer?" Nic asked. He turned around. "I'm really glad we got this squared away. We didn't get off on the right foot, but I think things are gonna be okay. You're not such a bad guy when you're not screaming in my face." She chuckled again, but the bitter tinge to her voice seemed to be gone.

"Yeah, er, you're not so bad yourself. Now we should be, erm, making tracks?" Rimmer stammered. _Oh smeg, a girl says something nice to me and my brain shuts down. Way to go, smeghead,_ he thought.

"Sure. So is this what passes for adventure around here?"

"Usually."

"I think I'm going to like it here, then."


	15. Bored

**Chapter 15: Bored**

"What are you doing?" Lister asked, picking up a large bolt and inspecting it closely. "Some sort of puzzle?" Nic sat at the table in his and Rimmer's room, picking through a pile of scrap metal and circuit boards. An old movie played on the vidscreen, one of the better _Friday the 13th _sequels, but Lister had lost interest in it in favor of bothering Nic.

"You could call it that. I was digging around in one of the cargo bays for something to play with and I found this smashed up toaster. I figured I'd put it back together for fun, maybe play with its AI unit a little, see if I can change its voice or something." She picked up a large shard of plastic with the cryptic phrase "kie Toas" painted on it in a cheery yellow color and examined it for a moment.

"Oh, no, please don't let it be the toaster..."

"Why didn't you guys tell me you had a Talkie Toaster? I love those things! My mom gave me one when I got my first commission. It beat the hell out of talking to myself. I think my bunkmate stole it, though. After a few weeks it went missing and I never saw it again."

"Probably because it was driving her bonkers. Those toasters are totally mental. If you're not constantly eating, like, a loaf of toasted bread at any given time, it bothers the hell out of you. That's why you're looking at a pile of scrap metal and not a toaster."

"Well, that gives me even more reason to mess with the AI. Maybe it's not wired right."

"You can't change it. It's completely bread-obsessed. I hate that thing." Despite his words, Lister idly picked up two pieces from the scrap pile, attempting to jam them together, despite the fact that they clearly did not fit. Nic picked up a screwdriver and started putting the toaster's casing together. They worked quietly for a few moments, the sounds of chainsaws and anguished screams filling the air from the ignored movie, still playing on the vidscreen.

"Hey, did you ever have a Walkie Talkie Toaster?" she asked.

"What's that, then?"

"It was an upgraded model, $£29.95 instead of $£19.95. The company wanted everyone to be able to have a Talkie Toaster, even kids and old people and disabled people. So they came up with Walkie Talkie Toaster. It had little robotic arms and legs so it could get the bread for you, put it in the toaster, and then put butter and jam on it. It got recalled pretty quickly, though. Once the toaster figured out that there was no bread in the house, it'd get some for you."

"And that was a problem?"

"Big time. The toasters started breaking into people's houses, threatening people, and robbing supermarkets for bread. A few people got stabbed. See, they were already programmed to use knives."

Lister laughed. "Smeggin' hell. That's one thing I don't miss about Earth, stupid crap like that. Talking toasters robbing you for a French loaf. All of those things are bonkers about bread. It's so annoying."

"So you're saying I _shouldn't_ put the toaster together?" Nic asked, gesturing toward the pile of junk with her screwdriver.

"There's no point. That thing drives me up a wall. It'd end up back in a million pieces within a few minutes."

Nic sighed. "But I'm so bored! I've been here for nearly a month and all I've done is watch the entire series run of _Androids_ and watched the Cat model every single outfit in his wardrobe. The only reason I'm here is because he realized that some of his handkerchiefs didn't completely match and he's making a whole new set of suits for them. Putting the toaster together would kill an afternoon, at least. Maybe you could smash it, then I can put it together again. That'd kill even more time!" Lister grabbed a garbage can and swept the half-assembled pieces of toaster off the table into it. "Oh, come on!" she cried, throwing a stray screw at him. It bounced off his chest and landed on the floor; he picked it up and put it in the bin with the rest of the toaster's parts.

"I'm not gonna let you unleash that toaster on me just because you're bored. Go put on another vid. Or you could go hang out with Rimmer." He went over to the mini fridge in the corner of his room and grabbed two cans of Leopard Lager, tossing one to Nic.

"Oh, he's being all weird," she replied, cracking the can open and taking a swig. "He keeps asking me if I want to look at pictures of telegraph poles. I'm not sure what he means, but it sounds kind of dirty."

"It's exactly what it sounds like. If Rimmer wanted to sleep with you, he wouldn't be coy about it."

"I know. I've seen his bookshelf. He's got both editions of _How to Pick Up Girls by Hypnosis _and a copy of _How To Trick Women Into Liking You_. It's pretty pathetic."

"Ever wonder why he has so many socks?" Lister asked, grinning knowingly. Nic choked on her beer.

"Please don't make me imagine that. He's been hanging around me a lot. Sometimes it does get weird, but I feel bad for him. He seems like an okay guy when he's not being petty or pedantic. But it's also, you know, kind of creepy."

"He's not used to women being nice to him. Well, not nice. More like he's not used to women not immediately screaming and running away when he talks to them."

"And since I'm being vaguely nice, he's latched on?"

"Bingo."

"You know, I figured being the last woman alive would be a lot less complicated than this." Lister started to speak. "And if you make one joke about repopulating the human race, then I'm going to make you eat the pieces of that toaster." He smirked.

"What toaster? Did you resurrect that horrible talking toaster?" Rimmer asked worriedly as he entered the room.

"She tried to. I stopped her," Lister replied.

"I never thought I'd say this, Listy, but that was a very sensible decision, considering your glaring mental deficiencies."

"Cheers, Rimmer! That was almost nice. Was this your doing?" Lister raised his beer to Rimmer, then Nic.

"I guess. I told him to stop being such a smeghead all the time. Does that count?" Nic shrugged.

"I'm willing to be civil to Lister if it means never having to deal with that toaster again. It once kept us up for a week straight after we had our bread rations taken away. The smegging toaster was going through withdrawal." Rimmer shuddered at the memory.

"If you had just let me talk to Todhunter, maybe you wouldn't have mentioned that his girlfriend looked like Captain Hollister in drag and we would have had more than just beans to eat."

"I did no such thing!" the hologram snapped. "Seriously, the resemblance was absolutely uncanny. How could he not have noticed?"

"Can we not rehash an argument that's 3 million years old?" Nic asked.

"If you insist," Lister said.

"So that means once I leave, you'll have it out?"

"Most definitely," Rimmer replied, glaring at Lister.

"Good to see things haven't changed too much." She rolled her eyes.

"Good news, sirs and ma'am," Kryten said as he entered the sleeping quarters. He started to speak, but was interrupted by the Cat letting out a high-pitched screech and sliding into the room.

"Hey, I've been looking for you everywhere, girl-bud! I just finished four more suits for you to look at! You three can check it out too, I guess," Cat said.

"Someone kill me," Nic groaned. "Can we postpone? I'm sure you want to make more suits first."

"Why would I want to do that? If I sew all day, I might get a callus on my beautiful hands!"

"These are the problems you _want_ to have," Lister grumbled.

"Sirs and ma'am, while I'm sure we all desperately want to sit here and debate the merits of Mister Cat's fashion show, I did have some interesting news before I was interrupted," Kryten said.

"Let him talk, Cat. What's going on?" Nic asked.

"Holly says we've just passed by an S3 planet."

"Whoop-de-smegging-do. What does that have to do with us?" Rimmer lay down on his bunk and put both hands behind his head, looking relaxed while sounding extremely annoyed.

"Don't care. Bored," Nic grunted, reaching for the bin filled with toaster parts that sat near Lister's leg.

He saw her move and slapped her hand away. "Don't do it," he warned her.

"I'm _bored!_" she whined. Lister rolled his eyes, then crossed the room to fish a Rubik's Cube out of his locker. "Do this instead," he said, tossing it to her. Scowling, she started fiddling with the toy.

"I noticed that morale has gotten rather low, so I wanted to propose a brief holiday. Perhaps a change of venue could shake things up," the mechanoid said.

"I wouldn't say morale is low," Rimmer countered.

"Sir, when the Cat dragged you on a wild goose chase to capture one of Lister's socks because he thought it was an alien, you threatened to tar and feather him."

"And we would have gotten you, too, if we'd managed to find any tar on this ship," Rimmer threatened, glaring at the hapless feline.

"Good thing you didn't! I would've had to take my claws out!" the Cat said, trying to loom over Rimmer with his hands curled into claws. The hologram rolled his eyes.

"We ended up running around the cargo decks with bazookoids for four hours to find a sock. That's an offense worthy of tarring and feathering in my book," Nic complained, twisting the sides of the Rubik's Cube around but coming no closer to a solution. Frustrated, she threw the toy on the table, where it bounced a few times before falling on the floor.

"This is precisely why I suggested this trip. Tensions are running higher than Bob Marley fans. I fear that if we don't make some sort of change to our daily routine, there's no telling what sorts of insanity we can devolve into." Kryten picked up the discarded Rubik's Cube, still cleaning even when he was trying to lead the Dwarfers.

"So what's on this planet?" Lister asked.

"I wasn't able to accurately check the surface due to some thick cloud cover. Holly reported a warm surface temperature and evidence of both vegetation and water. Best guess, it would be like some sort of jungle or tropical beach on Earth."

"Sand, sea, and sun! Sounds nice. We can lay on the beach, do some swimming…" Lister trailed off. "Where'd I put my swim trunks?"

"Can we pack some airsick bags? I might have to do something disgusting if I see you in swim trunks, bud," Cat griped.

"I don't have a swimsuit…" Nic thought aloud. Almost immediately, she added, "It would be in your best interests not to make any cracks about that," looking at Lister, Rimmer, and Cat.

"That is a glaring misrepresentation of my character and I take great offense to that," Rimmer replied.

"Don't tell me you weren't going to make some sort of skinny dipping remark," Lister said skeptically.

"Absolutely not. I had a really smashing joke about bikinis."

Nic put her head down on the table. "Spare me. How long will it take us to get there so I can avoid the two of them?"

"We passed it some time ago. Holly estimated that it should take about three days in Starbug."

"So when are we leaving?" Rimmer asked.

"I would say the sooner the better. Obviously we would all need time to pack for a week or two away from the ship. Suggest tomorrow afternoon."

Cat blanched. "Tomorrow afternoon? That's less than 24 hours! I need more time than that."

"How much time?" Lister asked warily.

"Two weeks, at the very least. I have to coordinate my towels with my clothes!"

"Two weeks?" Kryten squeaked, jarred out of his usual tranquility by the thought of two more weeks with a squabbling crew. As if by reflex, he launched the Rubik's Cube at Cat. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc, hit him in the chest, then clattered to the floor. Everyone stared at the mechanoid, shocked that he had done such a thing. Kryten quickly walked over and picked up the toy, placing it on the table. "Mister Cat, I… I… I…" he stuttered. The Cat was too stunned to be angry.

"So that's settled - we leave tomorrow afternoon," Rimmer decided.


	16. On The Road

**Chapter 16: On The Road**

Starbug was like a war zone for most of the journey to the S3 planet. Before they had even boarded the ship, Rimmer griped that Cat was taking too much time organizing his many trunks of clothes. Lister, Kryten, and Nic bristled at having to carry the Cat's things while they had only brought a few suitcases among the three of them. This turned into an epic argument involving thrown luggage, threats, and Cat attempting to flush Rimmer's light-bee down the toilet. Consequently, each Dwarfer staked a claim on an isolated area of the ship and only left it for their assigned turn in the cockpit or when Kryten announced over the ship's intercom that he'd made food. The five of them sat at the table near the kitchen silently, eating as quickly as possible so they could go back to not having to interact with one another.

The solitude was tacitly enforced for the first two days, until the Cat decided to put the craft on autopilot and take one of his many naps. Since he wasn't piloting, Starbug drifted slightly off course into a cluster of asteroids. The ship started to swerve wildly, knocking the Dwarfers to the floors of their respective rooms.

"What the smeg is happening?" Lister cried as he rushed into the cockpit. Cat stirred and transferred the piloting to manual, but his reflexes were slightly dulled and an asteroid scraped the side of the ship, producing a shower of sparks. The sounds of the other crew mates scrambling to the front of the ship could be faintly heard above the various alarms and sirens that sounded.

Rimmer ran in shortly after. "What did you do?" he accused, his nostrils flaring with anger. "You're going to get us killed!"

"It's nothing. I'm keeping it cool," Cat replied, trying to steer the craft between the rocks. As he spoke, he noticed a large asteroid in their path and jerked the ship sideways, throwing everyone to the floor, including himself. The ship tilted wildly again as the three men tried to regain their footing.

"Put the smegging seatbelt on, Cat!" Lister yelled. "Do I have to make you watch that safety video again?"

"All right, all right," he muttered, snapping the belt across his chest. "I can't believe you're making me wear this! If I'd have known we needed to do some fancy stick work, I wouldn't have worn green!"

"We wouldn't have needed fancy stick work if you'd been paying attention!"

"A giant rock is going to punch a hole in the side of the ship and you're complaining about your smegging outfit?" Rimmer yelped, incredulous. The ship tilted again to avoid a flaming meteorite headed straight for them.

"Could someone please tell me what the smeg is going on?" Nic asked, unsteadily walking up the steps to the cockpit. She braced herself against a wall until she felt stable, then took another step. Cat leaned on the joystick once more, causing Nic to fall to her left. She reached out both arms to catch herself and landed with one hand on the console and the other on the chair. She stayed there for a moment until she realized that she was shoulder-deep in Rimmer's torso, then jerked back. "Sorry!"

"Where's Kryten?" Rimmer asked.

"Patching up a ruptured fuel pipe in the engine room," Nic replied, taking the mechanoid's customary seat.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?" Cat asked, looking back into the cockpit for a moment.

"New rule - eyes on the road until we have a good chance of not dying," Nic replied.

"Full stop," Rimmer commanded once they were clear of the asteroid field. "I want to know what the hell happened back there."

"Well, I was settling down for my mid-afternoon snooze," Cat began.

"You were _what?_" Lister snapped. "Please do not tell me you decided to take a nap instead of piloting the ship."

"Not a long one! If I don't catch a few Zs during the day, how am I going to stay awake?"

"There's not much point in you sleeping to stay awake if you sleep while you're supposed to be awake." Cat looked at Nic blankly. She buried her face in her hands. "It's an extraordinarily simple premise to grasp. When you're piloting the ship, don't take a nap!"

"Not nap? I might as well die!"

"We nearly did, thanks to you!" Rimmer snarled.

"Maybe we should keep two people in the cockpit in case this happens again," Lister suggested.

"So basically we need someone to make sure the Cat doesn't decide to fall asleep again?" Nic cocked an eyebrow at the feline, who ignored her in favor of cleaning his nails.

"Basically," Lister replied. "It was my turn next and Rimmer's after that, so we'll take over."

"What about me?" Cat asked.

"Go take your smegging nap," Lister said.

"I'm not tired anymore. All that excitement got my blood pumping!"

"_Go take your smegging nap,_" he repeated with an edge in his voice.

"Let me translate from English to gimboid for you," Rimmer offered. "Get the smeg out of the cockpit before he inserts that joystick you're holding in a very uncomfortable place."

"I see how it is! I can tell where I'm not wanted!" Cat huffed, then stormed out of the cockpit.

"What a complete and total smeghead," Rimmer grumbled.

"I'm going to see if Kryten needs any more help down in the engine room," Nic said, getting to her feet. "Call me when one of you needs to switch out." Rimmer craned his neck and watched her walk toward the steps.

"Don't sprain your neck there," Lister noted, scoffing.

"I think I'm going to ask her on a date." Rimmer replied, turning around. "Watch that planet!"

"That planet is half a light year away. What would you do with her, anyway? You've got no body."

"I'll think of something." Rimmer scrunched up his face quite unattractively, trying to force the gears in his head to turn.

"You can't come up with anything, can you? Either way, she's not interested in you." Lister rummaged around his chair until he found what he was looking for - an ancient bag of peanuts. He cracked one open with his teeth and ate the nut, throwing the shell on the floor.

Rimmer grimaced at Lister's disgusting eating habits, though he continued to speak. "I think she likes me. Why is she so nice to me? She apologized when she fell through me!"

"Because she doesn't feel like constantly arguing with you? And because she has common courtesy?"

"Don't be stupid. There's definitely romance in the air."

Lister tried to be gentle. "I think you're mistaking romance for delusion."

Rimmer was silent for a few moments, then focused a narrow-eyed gaze on Lister's face. "Ah, now I see. You like her!"

"God, no. She's a laugh and all, but she's no Kochanski," Lister blanched.

"So you don't like her because she hasn't ditched you for an ex-boyfriend?" The hologram rolled his eyes.

"Very funny, Rimmer. A girl like that is not the settling down type. If I tried to pull some romantic line on her, she'd probably try to break my neck. I tried to tell her about me plan for when I get back to Earth and she pulled the same smeg you always did - she laughed and told me to dream on."

"Well, you have to admit, it's a pretty stupid plan. Earth as we know it probably doesn't exist anymore."

"It's not stupid, it's me plan. What's the point of doing anything if you don't have a plan?"

"You have your plan, I have mine. My plan is to ask Nic on a date." Rimmer nodded, as though affirming his idea would make it work.

Lister laughed. "Good luck with that, man."

"So going back to Earth and opening a fish and chip shop—"

"A _donut_ shop," Lister corrected.

"Whatever. You want to open a crap food emporium on an island that was 3 feet underwater when we left the solar system 3 million years ago and marry a woman who's been dead for several ice ages who didn't even like you to begin with. And you think your plan is more plausible than me going on a date with Nic, who lives right down the hall?"

"Way more plausible."

Rimmer considered the possibilities. "Oh God, you're right. Anything I can do to level the odds a little?"

"Just don't do it. I've seen you around women. You're about as subtle as a stampede of elephants. She's not here for a date, she's here because we happened to pick up her stasis pod. Leave her alone." Lister cracked another peanut between his teeth.

"What are you saying, Listy? I love a challenge!" The hologram rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"It's your funeral."

"See? I can't possibly fail. I'm already dead."

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"

Rimmer shook his head. "Not a single one."

"So I can say anything and you'll still hear it as me supporting you?"

"Shut up, I'm hoping I can trick myself into thinking she won't die laughing when I ask."

"Good luck with that," Lister replied, rolling his eyes.


	17. Muck

**Chapter 17: Muck**

"Take her down gently," Kryten advised, standing behind the pilot's chair.

"I know how to fly this thing," Nic grumbled. "Quit standing behind me, you're making me nervous. Why aren't you gathering your stuff like everyone else?"

Kryten took the hint and jerkily moved across the cockpit, taking the passenger's seat. "Well, you were there when they made the rule, Miss Nic. Two crewmates in the cockpit at all times."

"Except I'm not going to fall asleep now, I'm landing the smegging thing." She tapped a few buttons on the console. "Starting controlled descent. Altitude, 500 feet."

"Don't go into self-defense mode, ma'am. I'm just following the rules that we all agreed upon."

"Kryten, you don't need to tell me what to do. I know how to pilot a Starbug. I used to steal them, remember?"

"Yes, and if I recall correctly, you crashed them as well."

She frowned. "Good point. Keep an eye on the other instruments for me, this planet's got such dense fog that I don't know what the smeg I'm landing on." Nic tried to peer through the viewscreen but could only see a greenish mist. Her stomach twisted, signaling that this was not going to be the leisurely excursion she had hoped for. She chose to ignore the sign, chalking it up to nerves, and continued to guide the craft down to the planet's surface.

"All radar suggests that we're landing on an open plain," Kryten reported after checking a screen on the wall of the cockpit.

"Just make sure I don't hit anything. You can't trust radar with fog like this, and I don't want to spend the first day of my vacation picking bits of tree out of the underside of the ship."

"Current altitude?" he asked.

"50 feet. Extending landing gear." The ship floated down to the ground, catching itself on its outstretched insectoid legs. There was a slight jolt as Starbug landed, then it was still. Nic switched the engine off. "See? It's fine."

As soon as she spoke, the ship slowly started to sink. "Are you sure?" Kryten asked.

"What the hell?" She turned the engine on again, then peered over the dashboard to look at the landscape. The area had a green-tinged light from the spindly trees that reached up past where she could see. The ground was covered in a swirling mist, but beneath it she could see glimpses of green-brown sludge. "We're in a swamp."

"…Oh. Perhaps we should lower the caterpillar tracks and try to find more stable ground." Nic nodded and pressed a few buttons.

"Didn't you say this whole planet was like a beach?"

"Or jungle. There's water on the planet, so one may assume that its common features with similar locations on Earth, there may be a beach."

"I hope you're right."

They drove around for an hour, trying to find land more substantial than swamp mud. Kryten spotted a large body of water, large enough to presume that it was an ocean. Nic steered Starbug toward the coastline and managed to find a solid patch of ground.

When she turned the engine off and the ship stopped its familiar rumble, Cat called, "All clear?"

"All clear," Nic replied as she and Kryten left the cockpit. Cat and Rimmer waited excitedly by the airlock with their gear as Lister punched in the exit code. Cat wore a loudly-printed pair of swim trunks and carried a matching surfboard.

"Where'd you get that?" Rimmer asked, gesturing toward the surfboard.

"Well, I was looking around in the cargo decks to see if there was any stuff I could make mine—"

Lister cut him off. "I don't think we want to hear the story anymore."

"Me first!" Cat yelped as the airlock doors slid open. He hopped in and gave Lister a thumbs up before reaching out and hitting the close door button.

"That smeghead!" Lister grumbled. As they waited for their turn in the airlock, they heard a strangled scream from outside.

"What the smeg was that?" Rimmer asked. The four of them climbed in and descended onto the planet's surface. When the doors opened again, they saw Cat sprawled on the ground, trying to get up. Thick brown muck sucked at him as he struggled to get to his feet. He turned to greet them, covered head to toe in mud.

"Anyone got a sword so I can ritualistically kill myself?" he groaned. "My outfit is ruined!"

"So where's this beach you were talking about, Kryten?" Rimmer asked sarcastically. "Are we supposed to take a left or a right at the disgusting swamp?"

"The coastline is about a quarter of a mile to the east. Maybe it'll get better," Nic replied.

"I hope so; this place smells like Lister's sock drawer. Which way is east?" the hologram wondered, shading his eyes with one hand and looking at their surroundings. There was nothing to be seen but muddy ground and thin, sickly-looking trees with long branches. Nic had steered Starbug into an area with dense leaf cover, so the light near the ground was dim and green, making them all look ill.

"Breathing this air is like trying to drink curry paste through a straw," Lister complained. The air on the planet was breathable, but just barely. Despite the shade, the heat was intense and the air was thick with humidity.

"We're not moving an inch until I get to take a shower and change my clothes!" the Cat demanded. He stomped one foot on the ground impetuously, causing more mud to splash on him.

"We're going to the coastline, there'll be water there for you to clean off in," Lister said. "I'm not standing in this disgusting swamp for four hours while you primp."

"I'm going back in," Cat threatened.

"We're leaving," Rimmer said, starting to walk away.

"East is that way, sir," Kryten replied, pointing in the opposite direction.

"I know that. I was just testing you," Rimmer sputtered. Lister and Nic turned to follow them.

"Hey guys, wait up!" Cat yelled, trying to move in a way that would minimize actually having to put his feet on the ground. They trudged through the mud toward what they hoped was a beautiful, sandy beach where they could get tan for a few days and get away from the usual slog through space. What they found wasn't so much a beach as a green, algae-dotted sea lapping at a large patch of sand mixed with the disgusting mud that sucked at their feet with every step. In the time it took to walk from the ship to the sea, they were all spotted with dirt from the waist down.

Rimmer snorted. "I thought you said this was going to be a nice holiday. I don't know about you, but my definition of a nice holiday doesn't involve a trip to Planet Mud."

"I suppose we could go back to Starbug and launch the scouter to get a better view of what's on this planet," Kryten recommended.

"I'm not walking back," everyone else said in unison.

"God, it stinks out here," Nic groaned. "I think the swamp ocean's making it smell worse."

Cat grimaced. "I have to clean myself off in that?" He pointed to the heaving water, which had just coughed up some sort of half-rotted fish carcass on the shore.

"It's either that or going all the way back to the Bug," Lister answered.

"I guess I'll have to take my chances." Cat tiptoed to the ocean and waded out a few feet until he could scrub the mud from his body. As he walked back to shore, a huge wave overtook him and splashed over his head. "It's horrible!" he sputtered, spitting out mouthfuls of green water as he crawled onto the beach, covering him with mud once more. He let out a scream and went back into the ocean.

"Maybe we should reconsider our little excursion, gents?" Rimmer asked, trying to be polite. "And lady?" Nic rolled her eyes.

"So what you really mean is, 'Get me the smeg out of this smegging hellhole before I smegging kill someone'?" Lister asked.

"Absolutely."

"Great minds, man," he replied.

"I don't want to go back to the ship or I'll kill someone. Don't you guys remember why we came here in the first place?" Nic asked.

"I do remember wanting to do something terrible to Sir Smells-A-Lot with his guitar…" Cat remembered.

Kryten nodded. "Do you not remember the tension on the ship before we left? Or the incident when Mister Cat nearly got us all killed because he wanted to nap while piloting?"

"Let's not point fingers here!" Cat said.

"What I'm saying is that perhaps this holiday could be used as a bonding exercise, rather than a relaxing getaway. Adversity can bring us together, as it were, and make our journey back to Earth less arduous."

Nic furrowed her brow, trying to discern what Kryten was trying to say. "So we should try to have such a miserable time that being stuck on Red Dwarf won't seem so bad in comparison?"

"Precisely."

"Then no one will mind if I do this?" She reached down and picked up a handful of mud. It oozed between her fingers as she balled it up and threw it at Lister. It hit his chest with a disgusting splat; Nic let out a victorious laugh. Rimmer, Cat, and Kryten pinched their lips together as they all tried to hold in giggles.

"You smeghead!" Lister yelled as he tried to brush the muck from his jacket. "I'm going to get you for that!" He reached down for a handful of mud and hurled it in Nic's general direction. She ran away from him, trying to dodge the shot; instead of its intended target, Cat received a faceful of mud.

"Not again!" he moaned, then joined the fight. Soon they were all covered in mud, with the exception of Rimmer – though they had tossed a few handfuls through him, not wanting to spare him from their aggression. Within half an hour they had all tired themselves out and were panting heavily, trying to figure out what to do about their dreadful surroundings.

"So… back to the Bug?" Lister suggested.

"Let's just stick it out for one night. A thick layer of mud is probably more comfortable than a cot in the engine room, and a lot less noisy," Nic replied.

"But… it's so gross out here!" Cat said.

"It's something different," she pleaded. "Come on."

"I think we should stay out here," Rimmer declared, walking over to Nic and standing beside her so as to physically emphasize his agreement with her. Lister looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, uh, thanks, Rimmer."

"You guys can do what you want. I'm going back to the ship before my hair gets ruined anymore," Cat huffed, and stalked off in the direction in which they had come.

By nightfall, the four remaining Dwarfers had managed to set up a small campsite. Kryten had gathered wood from the thin trees near the beach and they set to work cooking canned rations from Red Dwarf in a crude fire pit. The food was awful, but cooking it over a campfire proved fun — until it started raining and the campfire fizzled out in a plume of foul-smelling smoke.

"Can we go back to the Bug now? Please?" Lister asked.

"I still think we should try to stick it out for one night," Nic replied through clenched teeth.

"Miss Nic, it is not necessary to remain in stubborn mode," Kryten reminded her.

"I just want to spend one night not on the Bug. Just one single night. Please?"

"Come on, chaps. We can get some air in our lungs, rough it under the stars," Rimmer said.

Lister looked up at the sky, which was heavy with brown clouds. "Have you lost your mind?"

The hologram shrugged. "I just think it'd be a good idea to get away from the ship for a bit."

"Whatever, man. Just don't be surprised if I join the Cat in the middle of the night." He stalked off to his tent and zipped himself inside.

"What was that about?" Nic asked.

"Mister Lister probably resents being stuck on this godforsaken mud hole of a planet," Kryten replied. Nic looked at him, one eyebrow arched. "Probably. Just an educated guess."

"No, I mean Rimmer agreeing with everything I said."

"I thought it was a great idea to camp out, that's all," the hologram said defensively. "Just because I don't have a body doesn't mean I can't get cabin fever."

Nic shook her head and got up from her perch next to the rained-out fire. "Forget about it. I'm just going to get some sleep."


	18. Stuck

**Chapter 18: Stuck**

Lister awoke with a start. He thought he'd heard a scream, but once he was awake enough to listen closely to the sounds outside, all he could discern was heavy rain spattering on his tent. Shrugging, he rolled over and closed his eyes. Another noise caused him to sit upright: it was definitely a scream. He scrambled outside in his long johns and socks to see Nic, completely drenched, kicking at the poles of her tent, attempting to dismantle it.

"What the smeg is going on here?" he shouted.

"The smegging tent ripped and a gallon of disgusting green water poured on me! I'm going back to the Bug and we're getting the smeg out of here as soon as I get some smegging sleep!" she snarled as she pulled the last pole out of the sand. She started to fold the tent so she could put it in her knapsack but the driving rain, her lack of sleep, and her frustration kept her from being able to do it properly. Lister watched her struggle and curse at the contraption, too weary to help. Her tirade grew in volume and intensity until Rimmer and Kryten were stirred from their tents.

"What's going on, ma'am?" the mechanoid asked.

"I'm going back to the ship! I want a shower and a real smegging bed!"

"But ma'am, you have to fold the tent lengthwise—" A hateful glare from Nic quieted him.

"Forget it!" she snapped, once more kicking the pile of poles and fabric that had once been her tent. She grabbed her knapsack and stomped through the rain back toward the forest and the ship, leaving the mess behind.

"I suppose now's a good time as any to say that I'm going to commit some sort of crime against humanity if I have to stay out here for one more second," Rimmer mentioned.

Lister nodded. "Let's get the smeg out of here."

Lister knocked on the wall of the engine room. "Er, Nic?" he asked. She was asleep on a hammock crudely hung between two pipes. She lay on her back, one arm flung above her, the other resting on her stomach. Even in sleep, her mouth was set in a grim line, unable to escape the stresses of the previous night. "Nic?" he asked again, louder.

"What?" she replied, her eyes still closed. "Is the ship on fire?"

"Er, no."

"Then I don't care." She turned away from him.

"Well, it's bad," Lister tried to reason with her.

"Are we going to die?"

"No."

"Don't care. Come back in a week."

"We can't get off the planet. The ship starts fine but we can't get any lift."

Nic let out a long, annoyed sigh and rolled out of the hammock. "I hate you, Lister," she muttered as she passed him.

"I don't know what the smeg is going on," Rimmer grumbled as he looked at his monitor. "It says the ship's running at one-third capacity, but there doesn't seem to be anything wrong." Nic stomped up the steps to the cockpit and sat in Lister's seat, with Lister following close behind.

"Did you check the engine data?" she asked.

"What engine data?" Cat replied.

"It appears to be normal," Kryten said. "All parts are in working order."

"Let me see it." The mechanoid passed her a printout, which she skimmed. "The lift coefficient is half of what it should be. That's probably the problem."

Rimmer furrowed his brow. "Well, we all know what that means, but for those of us unfamiliar with astronavigation—" he nodded toward the Cat — "what does that mean?"

Nic rolled her eyes. "The engine's not taking in enough fuel. Take Starbug's craft rating and divide it by the amount of fuel pipes… Ship's running at one-third capacity…" She did a few calculations in her head. "There are at least four fuel pipes jammed. They're probably full of mud and glop. We should flush the system, collect the fuel, and strain out the swamp junk. We should be good to go after that." The others looked at her blankly.

"I understood everything up to 'engine,'" the Cat replied.

Nic ran one hand through her hair impatiently. "When Starbug's using the caterpillar tracks, some of the fuel pipes are closer to the ground so they can take in extra air to help propel the ship. Since the Bug got stuck in mud when we landed, it gunked up the pipes. There should be a piece of the underside of the craft labeled "Fuel Expulsion Tank" with a latch near it. Pull the latch and the tank comes off, and you can use that to gather the fuel before putting it back into the Bug."

"Then what?" Lister asked.

"Someone has to stay here and put in the startup code for the fuel flush process. Hit the button on the console, then it'll ask you for the code. It'll push everything out. Someone else can go down to the engine room to make sure the pipes are okay while it happens. I'll go outside and make sure the fuel comes out clean."

"I suggest Mister Rimmer and I go the engine room. If there is a malfunction with the pipes, we carry the lowest risk of serious injury," Kryten advised.

"Go for it, man," Lister said as Nic got up and he took his seat. Kryten handed her a radio as she left the cockpit, then headed down to the engine room with Rimmer.

A few minutes later, she called over the radio. "Okay, everything's set up out here." Silence. "Are you there?"

Lister pushed a few buttons on the console in front of him, trying to figure out the code to start the fuel flush process. The console glowed red and let out an angry beep. He tried it again with the same result. "Hello?" Nic asked again over the radio, worried.

"I know the code," Lister insisted.

Kryten's voice came over the radio next. "Mister Lister? Are you there?"

Lister sighed and pushed the communicator button. "What's the startup code?"

"Try 1-2-3-4," Nic suggested. He punched in the numbers with a scowl, waiting for the console to flash red and lock him out. To his surprise, it lit up a cheery bright green.

"Why did that work?" he asked.

"Because no one thinks to make another password," Nic answered. "Turn it on." Lister punched a few more buttons. The ship started to rumble ominously, the engine growling at a furious volume. Lister and the Cat looked at each other, worried.

"Is this supposed to happen?" the Cat asked.

"It's just the engine trying to shoot the mud out. It's fine." The rumbling got louder. "…That's not fine. There must be some mud impacted pretty far back in the pipes." Nic went over to an old, dead tree and pulled a low-hanging branch from it. "I'm going to try to unclog it a little." She climbed onto the tank and stuck the branch into the fuel chute, maneuvering it so that it loosened up the gunk in each of the fuel lines that fed into the chute. "That should do it—" she declared, but was cut off by a loud roar. After a moment, the radio went dead.

"Smeg!" Lister exclaimed. "Is she okay?" He and the Cat deserted their posts in the cockpit and ran to the airlock, where Kryten and Rimmer were already stepping inside. Once outside, they ran to the back of the ship to check on Nic. They could not see her amidst the sludge-covered earth. Suddenly, a small part of the ground started to move and shift. A dark brown, vaguely humanoid form stumbled to its feet. It was Nic, covered head to toe in swamp mud. The whites of her eyes stood out like beacons from her muck-drenched body.

"Could someone please get me a towel?" she asked weakly.

Nic was curled up on a bench in the stern, picking grime out from under her fingernails with the tip of a pencil. Her hair was damp and lay flat on her head, the result of a shower that lasted nearly ninety minutes and tested the capacity of the ship's hot water heater. The others took over piloting Starbug back to Red Dwarf to give her time to rest and regroup; in a few hours, she would switch with the Cat so he could take one of his many naps. Someone had turned the air conditioning on, most likely Lister, to ward off the damp sweat of the swamp planet. She still didn't feel clean, despite scrubbing so vigorously that her skin was pink and raw.

She jumped as the door to the stern slid open, revealing Rimmer. "Cat's already ready to quit?" she asked disappointedly, stirring from her comfortable position.

"No. I just wanted to take a break from the rest of them. Kryten's just made Lister a chicken vindaloo pizza and it doesn't seem to be agreeing with him. Hopefully when we get back to the short rouge one, I can get Holly to whip me up a hologramatic gas mask in preparation for the next gastric abomination."

"Gross," she said flatly. Rimmer could see that Nic was in a subdued mood, no doubt still disgusted from getting covered in mud and having to refuel the ship before being able to get clean. When they were finally able to get back in the Bug and take off, pieces of dried mud broke off and left a trail behind her to the washroom. Kryten was happy to mop up after her, of course.

"What a great birthday present, getting covered in mud. Not to mention the tear-gassing you'll get from Lister's stomach when you go in the cockpit," he said.

"What?"

"Isn't it your birthday today?"

Nic was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. I didn't want to make it a big deal. It's just another day."

"Nonsense. I got you something. It's in the cupboard over there. Normally, I'd get it for you, but… you know." He gestured to his hologramatic body. Nic got up and opened the cupboard door, finding a small cardboard box covered in gold foil, much like a jewelry box. Inside she found a couple of pins - a small golden eagle and a bar of white enamel, with "Science Officer - Second Class" printed on it in the distinctive block type of the Space Corps.

She turned to face him. "Second class with honors?" she asked, gingerly picking up the eagle pin between two fingers.

"You would have passed that test back on the Lynx," he said. "What you did with those engines was magic, so I know you deserve them."

"Not magic," she countered. "Just the result of hundreds of hours of studying."

"It was better than anything any of us could have managed. If Lister had taken charge, we'd still be on that godforsaken planet, trying to figure out what was wrong with Starbug."

"I'm sure Kryten would have gotten it eventually," she replied with a yawn.

Rimmer frowned. "I'm trying to compliment you."

"Oh. Sorry. I'm just really tired. It's been a bad 24 hours." She scowled.

"I'll leave you alone and get back to the cockpit, then. Happy birthday," he said with a sad smile, his voice soft and melancholy.

"No, Rimmer, wait." He turned around. "Thank you. I mean it. This was really thoughtful of you." She pulled the golden eagle from the box and fastened it to the left breast of her shirt, smiling at him.

"You're welcome, officer." Rimmer saluted her, then left the stern. The door slid closed behind him. Nic ran a finger over the Science Officer pin as she bit her lip to keep herself from crying.


End file.
